


From Yesterday

by soulfulsin



Series: Night of the Hunter [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/M, I need coffee, my internet is so slow this morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: Sequel to Night of the Hunter.Webby has some problems adjusting to her new life after having grown up under FOWL's "tutelage". Steelbeak is displeased with his daughter's choices and tries to rein her back in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was mad obsessed with this when I wrote it, so the entire series is written out. Just fyi.

Webby was reacquainting herself with McDuck lure. She’d snuck into the Money Bin and then, from there, into the library, despite the austere librarian attempting to kill her. When she was five, she’d known all of these random facts and figures about the McDuck family. Now she knew next to nothing. Her mind was packed with FOWL secrets and techniques, which she had yet to completely divulge to SHUSH. Her grandmother vouched for her and Webby had given them something, just not the extent that they wanted.  
  
Besides, turning traitor had left a sour taste in her mouth. She knew she wasn’t evil, but she still felt a long way from “good”. At the moment, perched atop a library stack where the librarian couldn’t reach her, Webby considered herself neutral. She didn’t think, after everything that she’d endured, that she could ever be light and free the way the triplets were. The darkness would always burden her.  
  
It was the first time in years that she could choose her own reading material without fear of it being ripped out of her hands. The librarian blew a silent whistle to obtain backup and Webby rolled her eyes. Chances were that Scrooge McDuck and Louie would materialize as “backup” and then what? Neither of them stood a chance against her.  
  
A falcon snarled, entering the library, and Webby placed him immediately. Taurus Bulba sometimes enlisted Falcon Graves’ assistance; it seemed Graves was a freelancer, working for whoever paid the most. Webby smirked. Did he really think he was going to oust her from here?  
  
A blade whipped at her head, but Webby was gone in a flash, ducking it and whipping beneath his arm with her prize. She made it out of the library in one piece, with a book entitled The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck tucked under her arm. Figuring she might as well check in on Scrooge, she headed up to the office and ignored Falcon Graves reprimanding her. It was so odd to see someone from FOWL around here; her life in Duckburg felt like a complete disconnect from her previous life with FOWL.  
  
Although her grandmother had vouched for her, other than Dewey and Lena, no one trusted her very much. If Scrooge McDuck found out she’d been hunting through his archives, he’d be less pleased with her than he already was. She didn’t have a handy hat to store the book under, not like Huey with his JWG, which she already knew was a huge thing with him despite having only spent a week in the manor so far.  
  
It turned out that Scrooge (and Louie) was in a meeting and Webby was told to cool her heels. Unwilling to heed that advice, she pulled out the new cell phone her grandmother had given her. The lock screen was a picture of her and Dewey and the home background was of Lena, Dewey, and her grandmother. It tightened her chest to look at it, to remember how she’d acted and what had become of it. Love wasn’t about manipulation. She knew that now, even if she didn’t feel it yet.  
  
She hadn’t gotten the hang of texting yet; Dewey texted her a lot when they were apart, but for every five he sent, she sent back one. Texting required dexterity that, despite her training, she didn’t quite have. It was muscle memory and since her muscles didn’t remember, she had to type things out manually. It was a pain.  
  
What was far worse was that Steelbeak and Black Heron lingered in Duckburg. True, they were under maximum security, but Webby would have slept better had they been shipped out elsewhere, even Cape Suzette. Knowing they were here made her worry they’d break out and, once they did, they’d target her. SHUSH had promised repeatedly that she was safe, but she had her doubts.  
  
She was careful not to voice them. Her grandmother hated letting Webby out of her sight, which was understandable but also annoying. Webby was fifteen now; the time for caution was long gone. Moreover, with Steelbeak and Black Heron out of the picture, albeit temporarily, no one else in FOWL had an interest in her. She hadn’t thought they would, but it still stung to know that she’d spent ten years in a place where no one cared for her as anything but a tool.  
  
Her phone vibrated (according to Louie, no one had their phone on ringer anymore--everyone used the vibrate feature or silence, nothing in between). It was Dewey. With a groan, she looked at her phone. In the last half hour, he’d sent her no fewer than twenty text messages, including links to his Instagram page (she barely knew what the internet was, much less Instagram) and clips of his late-night v-cast, Dewey Dew-night. Of the videocast, she had even less of a sense.  
  
From experience, she knew if she didn’t respond to her text messages or answer the phone call, he’d leave her a voicemail. She didn’t savor the voicemails as she had under FOWL’s custody/imprisonment, because she could hear Dewey whenever she wanted in the manor. As a result, she regarded the voicemails with a combination of cheer and mild irritation. She still hadn’t gotten over that he was leaving messages for her. That he wanted to talk to her. It might take some getting used to.  
  
Seeing as she wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place, she declined the call. With her contraband under her arm, she hurried down the stairs toward the tunnels that linked McDuck Manor with the Money Bin. It would be a long walk, but once she was down there, assuming she had service, she could talk to Dewey. Security was tight around the Money Bin and she had memorized the guards’ routines prior to this expedition, lest she end up wrong-footed.  
  
Unfortunately, while guards’ activities were regulated and observable, other people within the building were not. They were unpredictable and Webby, attempting to avoid the guards on the fifth floor, instead collided with Gyro. She grimaced. She’d met Gyro once before this week and his officious attitude reminded her of FOWL scientists who were determined to prove their superiority. He rubbed her the wrong way.  
  
Gyro brushed himself off, scanning his surroundings to determine who had walked into him. Webby wished, not for the first time, that she had an invisibility cloak. In the past, when she’d been younger and smaller, she would have rolled away under a table. She’d tried that once and it’d worked. The second time, however, she’d stared into Taurus Bulba’s cybernetic face and wilted, petrified. True, Gyro was nowhere near as frightening as Taurus Bulba. He was unpleasant but not evil.  
  
“You’re...Webbigail Vanderquack, aren’t you?” Gyro said, frowning. “You’re Mrs. Beakley’s granddaughter.”  
  
Of course. They must have briefed him on her, although so many people knowing her real name made her prickly. It wasn’t a secret within FOWL who she was, but most people didn’t refer to her by her name. They used derogatory nicknames or “hey, you, girl”. Getting respect in FOWL was an uphill battle. That didn’t stop her from stiffening at Gyro identifying her.  
  
“You used to be a FOWL agent,” he said and scowled, as though FOWL had left a bad taste in his mouth. Then again, he’d hardly be the first one.  
  
She wasn’t in the mood for a prolonged conversation. Offering him a fake smile, she scurried around him and had almost reached the doorway when he called out to her.  
  
“What are you doing here? Did you come here with Mr. McDuck and his green nephew?”  
  
Webby’s beak twitched. That was how she was referring to Huey, Dewey, and Louie too, by their colors. Well, more Huey and Louie, because she had that strange connection with Dewey regardless. But the color coordination was the only way she could keep them straight, that and their hairstyles. They had the same faces and same tail shapes. Their voices were different, but she didn’t have enough experience telling them apart based on that.  
  
“Yes,” she lied. One of the skills Steelbeak had instilled in her was to fabricate, along with coming up with a decent cover story. You never knew when you might find yourself in a tricky situation, one that you probably shouldn’t have been in to begin with.  
  
“What are you holding?” he asked and she stifled a groan.  
  
“Research,” she said. That was true, after all. The best lies were sprinkled with truth. “I wanted to know more about Mr. McDuck and his family since I’ll be living with them and I should have grown up in McDuck Manor.”  
  
Gyro studied her and sweat trickled down her back. Was this the moment he’d call her bluff? She wasn’t prevaricating about the research, just that she didn’t have permission to take the book. The worst thing, however, would be to ramble and expose herself. Regardless of how anxious he was making her, she must not succumb to temptation.  
  
“Well, it’s never a bad thing to learn more about your surroundings,” Gyro said brightly and Webby’s shoulders slackened. Oh, that was close.  
  
“You do have permission to be here, don’t you?” he pressed.  
  
“Yes,” she lied. Mr. McDuck had never forbidden her from entering the Money Bin. He’d just never told her she couldn’t be here. It was a loophole, to be fair, but she had experience with toying with those too. Mrs. Beakley would probably be alarmed to find out how loose her morals could be.  
  
“All right,” he said, taking her response at face value. For a pompous scientist, he was remarkably naive.  
  
“Sorry about running into you literally,” she said and offered another vacuous smile. Gyro shrugged, waving her off.  
  
“I was just getting coffee,” he said. “And hoping that that idiot isn’t wandering around making things worse.”  
  
“Which idiot?” she asked idly, feigning indifference. Knowledge was power, no matter what the context.  
  
“Fenton,” he huffed. “Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, my intern. He’s always been a thorn in my side. You must have met him by now.”  
  
She shook her head and he scoffed.  
  
“Consider yourself fortunate. He’s a walking disaster,” Gyro sneered. “Why Mr. McDuck trusts him so much, I’ll never know.”  
  
Whoever Fenton was, he wasn’t important enough to interest FOWL. Still, if it was someone she might encounter, she would do well to remember him. (Why did it still feel like she was spying on SHUSH for FOWL? She wasn’t a part of FOWL anymore, damn it. How long would it take for those habits to break? She’d made her choice. She’d chosen love and affection over cruelty and malice. Was it the ten years of training that had warped her?)  
  
“I’m going to get coffee now,” Gyro said, ending the conversation. “If you see him, tell him that if he puts one more dent in that suit, it’s coming out of his salary.”  
  
“What suit?” she asked, baffled.  
  
“Never mind,” he said, waving his hand. “I’ll tell him myself.”  
  
Walking off, oblivious to Webby’s confusion, he went in search of coffee. The rest of her trip was thankfully uneventful. She supposed she had tacit permission to be here after all or the security cameras she must have been taped on would have alerted security to stop her. That took some of the fun out of it, but it did mean no tense confrontations when she reached home..  
  
Home. The manor still didn’t entirely feel like home, even after a week. It was too new and everyone was too friendly and open. It made her uneasy like she was waiting for the second shoe to drop or for the rug to be pulled out from under her.  
  
Underground, she had no service. It wasn’t until she reached the manor that her phone vibrated again and she rolled her eyes. Dewey was like a lovesick puppy. To be fair, Webby wasn’t sure how to react to him, so that might’ve been partially her doing. She might have encouraged him too much. Or not enough. How could you even tell?  
  
Rather than chance meeting him, she went straight to her room with the pilfered book. It was written by someone named Don Rosa, whom she had never heard of, and was about 400 pages long. She put it on her desk and surveyed her room. She’d had her new bed delivered, so she wasn’t sleeping in cramped children’s quarters anymore, but she had to redecorate. At least she had the option of doing that. At FOWL HQ, she wasn’t allowed to put up personal mementos.  
  
Once in her room, she steadied her breathing. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, just stolen something that she intended to return when she was done. Considering what she’d done before, poisoning her grandmother and shooting at Dewey, not to mention battering his brothers around and kidnapping Lena, stealing a book was low on the list. She didn’t even feel guilty about it, just worried that someone might discover her theft.  
  
She stared at the hardbound book and traced her fingers over the embossed title. It shouldn’t surprise her that Scrooge had books dedicated to himself. He was egocentric enough. Webby glanced around to ensure there was no one lying in wait for her--not that there would be, but old habits died hard. She locked the door, curled up on her bed with the book, and started reading.  
  
Her phone kept vibrating, breaking her concentration. Scowling, she picked it up. Dewey was desperate to talk to her. No, wait. She didn’t recognize the number, though it was also a local exchange. It wasn’t SHUSH calling her, Dewey borrowing Huey’s phone, or Dewey himself.  
  
Hesitant but feeling like she ought to answer regardless, she picked up the phone.  
  
“Hello?” she said, cautious. Steelbeak and Black Heron were still incarcerated, right? They wouldn’t be contacting her from the prison or using a proxy, right? Her heart kicked up a notch. They certainly wouldn’t be able to find her cell phone number. They’d disconnected the FOWL burner phone and Scrooge had demanded Gyro go through a lot of hoops to prevent her phone number from being discerned. FOWL couldn’t track her without a device installed on her phone, which required them to physically access it.  
  
“Webbigail?” a cautious adult female voice said. Wait, Webby knew that voice.  
  
“You’re...you’re Della Duck, right?” she said. “Dewey’s mom. Why are you calling me?”  
  
“Well, for one thing, Dewey tried to call you twenty times and you didn’t pick up,” Della said dryly. “For another, I thought maybe we should chat.”  
  
“We live in the same manor,” Webby pointed out, feeling like stating it was redundant.  
  
“I know we do,” Della said. “But I also know you’re not very social and you’re hiding out in your room.”  
  
“Wait, how do you know that?”  
  
A knock came at the door and Webby startled, jumping and catching the phone as it flew out of her hands. Suspicious, she crept toward the door and scowled when the person at the other side shook the knob.  
  
“You locked the door?” Della called through the door. “No one does that here.”  
  
“I didn’t want to be disturbed,” Webby said and hung up the phone call. There was no point in speaking with her on the phone if she was on the other side of her bedroom door.  
  
Reluctantly, she unlocked the door. Della smiled at her.  
  
“That’s better,” she said. “Now, c’mon, let’s have a girl chat. And you’d better at least text Dewey back before he freaks out further. He doesn’t like being ignored--middle child syndrome.”  
  
Webby rolled her eyes but did as Della suggested. She ignored the dread in the pit of her stomach over a “girl chat”. One on ones were discomfiting for her. She was always expecting to be put on trial. “Chats” had entailed grilling.  
  
“Calm down,” Della said and squeezed her shoulder. Webby startled again. “I’m not here to attack you. It’s a friendly chat.”  
  
She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t know which was worse, being stranded on the moon or what happened to you.”  
  
What the hell was she talking about? “I’m fine.”  
  
Why did no one believe her when she said that?  
  
Della scowled. “Definitely the latter.”  
  
They walked in silence for a minute, Webby fuming, when Della spoke again.  
  
“I knew your mother.”  
  
Webby halted, her heart skipping a beat. “Did you?”  
  
“Yes,” Della said. “Not very well, but I did know her. Wren, right? She was a spitfire. She and her mother always clashed.”  
  
Webby’s heart rate picked up another few beats. “Could you tell me more?”  
  
Speaking about SHUSH agents, particularly her mother, had been taboo. Anything she heard about her mother was tossed her way like scraps and was always denigrating.  
  
“Have I piqued your interest?” Della teased and Webby glowered.  
  
She pulled her into a study, where she discovered Scrooge McDuck sitting. The study consisted of three bookshelves on three walls with large windows out on the last wall. There were a desk and chairs, behind which Scrooge was sitting. In addition, there were a couple couches for reading. The floor was carpeted in Oriental rugs and curios sat in cases scattered throughout the room.  
  
“I know about the book, lass,” he said and she grimaced. “There are security cameras in the archives, you know.”  
  
“Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. She was sorry she’d gotten caught.  
  
“It’s all right,” he said. “Just don’t do it again. Now, there are a few people who want to talk to you, but I’ll let Della do it first. I’ll be back later.”  
  
He smiled affectionately at his niece and hugged her briefly before leaving the room. Webby didn’t understand what the full story was there, only that Della had been missing for years and then returned from the moon. The details beyond that were sketchy.  
  
Della waited until Scrooge left the room before turning to Webby. “Make yourself comfortable. Mrs. Beakley will be in here with refreshments. And yes, your grandmother wants to talk to you too.”  
  
Webby stifled a groan. She might have known.  
  
“Relax,” Della said and smiled at her. “This isn’t the Inquisition. After all, no one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition.”  
  
Webby stared blankly.  
  
“Monty Python? No? Really? FOWL has no sense of humor,” Della said, shaking her head. “No Ministry of Silly Walks for you either, huh?”  
  
Bewildered, she shook her head.  
  
“All right, let’s talk. And I give you permission to ignore Dewey for the time being. Unless he comes in here, which I doubt because I don’t think he’s ever been in this part of the manor before. This is the room next to where Louie conducts his business.”  
  
Louie Inc. Webby’s beak twitched toward a smile at the reminder.  
  
“I’m not here to make you uncomfortable,” Della continued as Mrs. Beakley arrived with lemonade and cookies. Webby couldn’t help the broader smile that crossed her beak. Lemonade and cookies had been in short supply at FOWL. Any sweets were quickly devoured by assholes and she was left to scrounge for the remains.  
  
“She doesn’t know about the Spanish Inquisition,” Della said conversationally to Mrs. Beakley and Mrs. Beakley groaned, facepalming.  
  
“Never mind that,” Della said. “Let’s talk about something you actually know about.”  
  
“Like what?” Webby asked.  
  
“Eventually, we’d like to know what happened to you,” Mrs. Beakley said and, after placing the lemonade pitcher, glasses, and cookies down on a table, reached across to hug her again. Webby had the sense she was making up for ten years without hugs. Oddly, when her grandmother moved away, Webby reached out to hug her back. There was a lump in her throat.  
  
“But there’s plenty of time for that,” Mrs. Beakley said. “You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
Steelbeak and Black Heron might, though. Steelbeak was the head of FOWL. How could he remain incarcerated? Someone was going to break him out and when that happened, Webby was in deep shit.  
  
“So, what did you want to talk about, then?” Webby asked.  
  
“Boys,” Della said brightly and Mrs. Beakley groaned, facepalming again.  
  
“Not now,” Mrs. Beakley huffed. She rolled her eyes at her. “How are you? I know this has been a rather big change for you.”  
  
“I’m okay,” she said, not sure if she meant it or if she was answering that way to get them off her back.  
  
“Hmm,” said her grandmother, not sounding like she bought it.  
  
“We’re not rushing you into anything,” Della added. Webby’s phone went off again and Webby groaned, wondering whether she ought to even pick it up. It had to be Dewey. Who else would be calling her? Well, Lena, possibly, but Lena was in the manor too. She picked it up anyway and Dewey had sent her ten sad face emojis. Oh jeez.  
  
“That boy is nothing if not persistent,” Mrs. Beakley said, rolling her eyes.  
  
“What?” Webby texted back.  
  
“Finally!” Dewey said. “I was beginning to think you were dead.”  
  
Webby facepalmed. Mrs. Beakley could read the screen from where she was and sighed.  
  
“Yes, him,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We need to discuss him and how you fit into the house. Everything will be fine. I’m not scolding you.”  
  
She scowled and Webby realized that someone must have told her the extent of the abuse Webby had endured at FOWL’s hands.  
  
She stepped back and held her granddaughter’s hands. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time, shall we? And, as Della said, ignore Dewey for now. He’ll survive...no matter how much he pretends otherwise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby accidentally admits to Dewey that she might be in love with him and agrees to go on an adventure with Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, and Launchpad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that my Webby may seem OOC in this series. But you have to keep in mind that any confidence she might've had was torn down by FOWL. So she's working toward regaining it in here. 
> 
> The series after this one, which I've started working on, will thrust her into a spotlight where she either has to be sure of what she's doing or fail miserably. She'll rise to the occasion. 
> 
> Also, this chapter contains one of my favorite scenes between Webby and Dewey, followed by next chapter's scene between them. I won't spoil it for you, but I will say one thing: selfies are involved.

She reacted differently than the triplets to certain events. When she heard a sudden noise, her first instinct was to drop into an attack position and reach for her weapons. Since Scrooge McDuck wasn’t letting her carry her weapons anymore, she came up short. It increased her anxiety, as her weapons had become like a suit of armor. Steelbeak had impressed upon her the importance of never letting the weapons leave her side, much less have someone confiscate them. However, one of the conditions she’d agreed to abide by to live in this house was that she couldn’t walk around armed. It made everyone too nervous, Scrooge claimed. Considering that the last time someone had snuck up on her, she’d grabbed them by the throat, she supposed she could see his reasoning.

The triplets weren’t like that. They would turn their heads toward the sound or spin about to see what it was. It was never anything dangerous and they usually relaxed afterward. Webby didn’t. Webby assumed that the noise was a decoy and that the real threat was elsewhere. Two weeks into staying at McDuck Manor and she remained keyed up, only able to relax her guard on rare occasions when her grandmother, Lena, and Dewey calmed her down enough.

For all that she was supposed to love her grandmother, Mrs. Beakley remained a stranger. She knew she ought to trust her, but she’d been brainwashed for years to believe her grandmother was weak and pathetic. Her grandmother had allowed love to pollute her judgment. Webby knew that love wasn’t a contaminant now. That didn’t mean she didn’t regard Mrs. Beakley without suspicion, though.

The same went for Lena and Dewey, unfortunately. While she trusted Dewey, far more than she should considering how little they actually knew each other, he was still a stranger. Lena was too, try as she might to rectify that. It wasn’t easy for Webby to reach out to people; after her upbringing, she was paranoid and wary. Trust was the backbone of any relationship and Webby didn’t have it. Plus, she was socially awkward and had difficulty starting and holding conversations.

At present, Webby was poring over  _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_  to see whether anything within it jogged her memory. She’d learned to read at three and she had an eidetic memory, which came in handy for learning languages and memorizing tedious lists. The problem was that she knew she’d memorized this stuff once before, but she had a mental block. Nothing before her arrival at FOWL would pierce through the fog. She didn’t remember being abducted, for instance, and while she had recognized Mr. McDuck and her grandmother on sight, she didn’t remember being in the manor before. She had the feeling that Black Heron or Steelbeak might have beaten that lesson into her. Most probably Black Heron.

As before, she had sequestered herself in her room and locked the door, despite multiple people telling her that doors were not locked in McDuck Manor. Frequently, doors weren’t even closed. Webby valued her privacy too much to leave it unlocked, much less open. Plus, if the door were open, someone could creep up on her at any time. Without her weapons, she’d be defenseless. Well, except for her body, which was a weapon in and of itself.

There was a knock at the door and Webby grabbed a scrap of paper, bookmarked her page, and strode over to the door to unlock it.

“Yes?” she said.

“So, we were all thinking that you might wanna do something normal, like go to the mall,” Huey said. “Especially since you spend all your time locked in your room. And…”

“And we don’t know what you’re doing in there,” Louie added. “It could be secret spy stuff or it could be something way worse.”

Reluctantly, she opened the door to find the triplets arrayed before her along with Lena, whose expression told her that the “we” in this instance did not include her. Judging by Louie’s identical expression, it did not include him either. Lena probably expected aloofness from Webby considering what Magica had put her through. Louie, on the other hand, didn’t trust Webby as far as he could throw her.

“It’s not secret spy stuff,” she said and reluctantly retrieved her book to show them. “I’ve been reading up about Mr. McDuck and the McDuck family. I used to know all about them before I was kidnapped. Now I don’t remember anything from before I was, like, six.”

“You don’t remember being kidnapped?” Huey asked and she shook her head.

“All I remember is what FOWL taught me,” she admitted. She couldn’t meet Huey’s gaze. “I guess some of what Granny taught me stuck subconsciously, because I’m not a psychopath, but I don’t really recall her. Or the manor. Or Mr. McDuck. Or anything but Black Heron and Steelbeak.”

“No wonder you attacked your grandmother,” Huey said.

“No, that was because I thought FOWL was going to kill me,” Webby said. “I didn’t really want to kill her. You probably noticed.”

“You didn’t want to kill anyone and that’s okay,” Dewey said. “Just because you were trained to do it doesn’t mean you have to.”

She shook her head again. “You don’t get it. In FOWL’s eyes, I’d failed them.”

“But in our eyes and in the eyes of anyone with a conscience, you didn’t,” Dewey said, taking her hand. Her heart thudded in her chest. His gaze was so earnest that she caught her breath.

“So, you’ve been spending all of this time holed up in your room when you could’ve just spoken to one of us?” Louie asked.

“I’m...not great with socializing,” she said. “I didn’t have anyone my age growing up to talk to and no one ever really wanted to talk to me. I was kinda in the way.”

The boys winced. Lena, however, was nodding as if she understood completely. Webby supposed she did. After all, she’d grown up isolated too. That made them kindred spirits.

“If your mission hadn’t changed, would you still have left FOWL?” Huey asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like FOWL had a lot to offer me, but it was the only thing I knew.”

“Next time, just talk to us, okay?” Louie said. “We don’t bite.”

Webby’s beak curved into a slight smile and she pulled away from Dewey to put the book down on a nearby bureau. This was more than she ought to have said and she couldn’t help but wonder whether the information might be used against her. Then again, they weren’t like that. They were supposed to be the good guys. She was supposed to be good now.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t believe that. FOWL had tainted her and corrupted her. Even if she hadn’t killed her grandmother, she’d still made the attempt. She’d kidnapped Lena and attacked the triplets. That didn’t make her a good person.

“Hey,” Dewey said, reaching out to grab her shoulders. “Hey. Where do you go when you stare off into the distance like that?”

He was the only one who could touch her without her starting. She remembered a cheesy line from a Gothic novel she’d read long ago, also inserted in the “cautionary tales” section of FOWL’s library. Wuthering Heights.  _“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”_

“Sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I go off on tangents mentally.”

“Like what?” Huey asked, curious.

Webby reddened. “Nothing important.”

She let them lead her away from her bedroom and the book. They were talking to cover the silence and Webby noticed that Lena hadn’t spoken. She cast her a quizzical look and Lena shrugged, returning to her phone and typing away furiously. It was her own little world and Webby envied her ability to escape. If she’d had that before, she could have dealt less with her tormentors.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Huey said.

She debated how much to tell them and hugged herself. Seeing her discomfiture, Dewey wrapped an arm about her waist. Every time she looked at him, she felt such a strange combination of emotions. Part of her wanted to kiss him, another part wanted to ask him whether he was out of his mind, and a third part felt grounded by him. Like she would fly away if he weren’t nearby.

“Do you think I’m a good person?” she asked and the words seemed to fall between them.

“You’re not an evil person if that’s what you’re asking,” Lena said without looking up from her cell phone. “I know evil. You did what you had to do to survive, Webs. You can’t blame yourself for turning out how you did.”

“You’re a good person,” Dewey said, which wasn’t quite what Lena had said. It was like the difference between innocent and not guilty. “You have a good heart. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have stood up to Steelbeak and Black Heron. You wouldn’t have pulled your punches with me or given Mrs. Beakley a poison that you knew wouldn’t kill her.”

“She still poisoned her, though,” Louie pointed out.

“That’s what I mean,” Webby said. “I’m not a good person, Dewey.”

“I don’t think you’ve had time to experiment with being a good person,” Huey said.

“You can be neutral, you know,” Lena said, looking up finally as they traversed the halls and headed toward the front door. “You don’t have to be good or evil.”

“You’ve spent your life being squashed under FOWL’s thumb. You had to do what they wanted or they’d kill you. That doesn’t mean you’re not a decent person, Webby. Like Lena said, you did what you did to survive,” Huey argued.

“You don’t know who you are yet,” he continued. “You haven’t had a chance to explore that side of you.”

Her secret heart. The one she’d kept hidden for so long that she had almost started to forget it existed. Dewey pulled her up against him and she leaned against him. Her heart thudded. She was falling in love with him. The thought struck her with alacrity. She could feel herself thinking the words “I love you”, despite only hearing them in the distant past and now that she’d joined her grandmother in the manor.

“Where do you five think you’re going?” Mrs. Beakley demanded and they stopped dead in their tracks. She was standing in front of the doorway and her gaze searched Webby for a few seconds. Whatever she saw softened her countenance.

“To the mall?” Louie said. “We’ll be fine.”

“The day before Thanksgiving?” Mrs. Beakley said, incredulous. “The place is going to be a madhouse.”

“So?” Louie said, unperturbed. Webby shivered.

“You don’t like crowds?” Dewey asked.

“I’ve never been in a crowd,” she said. “FOWL kept me pretty isolated. Duckburg was the first time I’d ever left the compound, remember?”

Dewey kissed her on the cheek and she turned and kissed him on the lips. Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat and Webby pulled back, swallowing the words “I love you”.

“As I was saying, not a good idea,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Perhaps you might…”

She trailed off as Mr. McDuck approached them. Webby’s chest tightened, apprehension gripping her. She knew that if she put a foot out of line, he could throw her out. She considered her housing status temporary, regardless of what the others said. One word from him and she’d be out on the street again.

“Another treasure, this time the lost Scepter of the Incas,” Scrooge announced, his eyes alight with the thrill of adventuring. “Care to join us, Webbigail?”

“I...what?” she said, baffled. “You want me with you? You trust me?”

“Mrs. Beakley has vouched for you. Repeatedly, I might add,” he said and rolled his eyes. “And what better way to prove your loyalty than a rip-roaring adventure with life or death consequences?”

“Yeah, leave me out of that,” Louie said. “I’m all for a trip to the mall, but I’m out of adventuring. Someone always gets hurt and that someone is usually me.”

“What do you say?” he said, smiling at Webby. “You wanna try your hand at treasure hunting and exploring the great unknown?”

“C’mon, say yes,” Dewey said and beamed at her. “You know you want to. Adventures are so awesome. You’ll love it.”

“I’m sitting this one out too,” Lena said, not looking up from her phone. “Not big on life or death situations, not after dying the first time.”

“You might enjoy yourself,” Huey said. “It’s a chance to get to know us better, too. Other than sitting in your room and reading about the family.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go.”

Dewey whooped, Louie rolled his eyes, and Lena frowned, looking up from her phone and then right back down. Webby’s heart thudded. She hoped she hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

* * *

It was the first time she’d met Launchpad. He was...unusual. Apparently, he found her fascinating and kept asking her strange questions about her time with FOWL. Webby, who hadn’t wanted to field so many questions about herself in the first place, felt increasingly awkward. She was grateful when Scrooge told Launchpad to focus on his piloting and not on 20 questions.

“You don’t really like to talk about yourself, do you?” Dewey said as Webby sat back down in relief.

“No one ever asked about me before now…” Webby said. “Not unless they were asking about what I could do or be for someone.”

Her heart clenched and she stared at the floor. Dewey cuddled her close; affection came so easily to him. What must it have been like to grow up with a guardian who actually cared about you? Who loved you?

Seeing as Huey was preoccupied checking the JWG about the Incas and Scrooge was making sure Launchpad stayed the course, Webby chanced kissing Dewey on the beak again. She couldn’t help herself. She really liked kissing him. And being held by him. And just him in general.

It didn’t hurt that he always kissed her back. He cupped the back of her head.

When they pulled back, her nerves, already taut from everything, snapped and she lost control of her mouth.

“I love you,” she blurted. She then turned scarlet and jumped back to put a seat between them. “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that. Just pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“It’s okay,” he said, as if talking to a skittish animal. “Ssh, it’s okay, Webs. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. Pretend I didn’t say anything,” she begged.

“Webby,” Dewey said, taking her hand. She yanked it away. Her heart was pounding. “Webby, it’s okay.”

“I...I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said, despite the Sunchaser’s small size. She needed to get up and away from this situation. Her chest was tight and she bolted, jumping down from the seats and sliding down the ladder toward the cargo hold. Dewey sprang after her.

“Wait!” he said. “Why are you running?”

“I can’t--I shouldn’t have said that,” she said as he descended the ladder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never had feelings like that for someone before and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and--”

She didn’t know what she feared, specifically, although rejection would’ve been on that list. Perhaps she thought Black Heron would swoop down and punish her for saying that and exposing weakness. She hugged herself again and Dewey put a hand on her shoulder. She stepped back.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please pretend nothing happened. Please.”

“I don’t get what you’re so afraid of,” he said. “No one’s gonna hurt you, Webs.”

“What’s going on down there?” Scrooge called.

Webby gazed imploringly at Dewey. If he told Mr. McDuck the truth, she’d be utterly miserable. As far as she was concerned, this was best buried somewhere deep down and never spoken of again.

“She thinks I’m gonna punish her or something,” Dewey said, baffled. Scrooge descended the ladder and Webby shot Dewey a venomous look.

“Are you okay, lass?” Scrooge inquired.

“She said she loved me!” Dewey said and Webby hit him. Hard. He went flying across the cargo hold and rolled over. Her stomach flip-flopped and she immediately felt guilty for striking him. But she’d told him explicitly to forget she said that.

“You can’t keep running away from your feelings,” Scrooge scolded. He glanced over at Dewey. “Or hitting them.”

He had a point. She wasn’t going to be able to escape this plane and it’d be a long flight. It’d also be an awkward one if she didn’t apologize to Dewey for the assault. But…

“I told him not to tell,” she said, glowering at him as he got to his feet and rubbed his sore cheek.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you said,” Scrooge said. “No one’s gonna hurt you, lass. You don’t have to keep acting like we’re going to jump you in the dark.”

“I’m sorry, Dewey,” she murmured as he came back over. His cheek was already turning colors and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“You do know it’s okay to love someone, don’t you?” Scrooge said and tilted her head up to look at him. “Oy, Bentina’s gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

“Agent 22--” she caught herself--”Granny--”

“I know a few weeks won’t erase years of cult mentality,” he said. “Baby steps, Webbigail. Don’t be frightened of what you feel.”

That was all well and good for him to say. He wouldn’t have been tormented for a slip of the tongue.

“I’m not even mad at you,” Dewey said.

“I don’t know if I’m in love with you or infatuated with you,” Webby murmured. “I just know I’ve never felt like this about someone and it terrifies me.”

Dewey hugged her.

“This is gonna be a long flight to Peru,” Scrooge said with a sigh, heading back up the ladder. “A very long flight.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby starts off apologizing to Dewey and ends up being pissed at him. Dewey takes an ill-advised selfie.

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Webby said again. It was cold in the Sunchaser and she rubbed her arms. She was still sitting with a chair between them and Huey continued reviewing the JWG and the JWG’s online equivalent for information about the Inca. Scrooge was coaching Launchpad on how to make a landing--they were about an hour out from their destination and Launchpad had a proclivity toward crashing.

 

“You freaked out,” he said. “I’m not mad at you, Webs. I told you that already.”

 

She still had the burner phone FOWL had given her. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and stared at it. Though it was foolish, she hadn’t deleted Dewey’s voicemails. Dewey glanced over at the phone.

 

“You don’t really think FOWL is going to call you, do you?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said. “I don’t know why I don’t just throw it out.”

 

“Was there ever anything good about living there? I know they’re all supervillains, but you must’ve had some good times, right? Or something less than complete misery?”

 

“It didn’t suck as much when Steelbeak told me he was proud of me,” she said. She wasn’t looking at him but continued staring at her phone. She hadn’t turned it on since she’d left FOWL.

 

“Or when we got milkshakes and ice cream,” she said. “And they had a pretty big library.”

 

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself. Dewey put an arm about her shoulders and she sighed, leaving the phone on her lap. She ought to discard it. If she turned it back on, FOWL could activate the GPS and track her. They’d take advantage of her again and probably kill her for leaving them. Death’s shadow hadn’t quite left her. It was hard to imagine she was completely clear of a life where she didn’t have to fear an assassin.

 

“Is that how you escaped? Reading?”

 

She nodded and then blushed. “My favorite book was Wuthering Heights.”

 

“I read that!” he exclaimed. She gave him a strange look. “What? I did. I had to read it for school.”

 

“And you liked it?” she asked. She hadn’t known Dewey was a romantic. Then again, there were so many things she didn’t know about him.

 

“Well, yeah,” he said and blushed too. “I mean, it’s a classic for a reason, right?”

 

She turned toward him and her heart raced. She’d never discussed the book with anyone before. Technically, she shouldn’t have read it. It was only for adults because they didn’t want her to read anything impressionable and get the idea that she might be able to love and be loved.

 

Feeling shy, she sat beside him again and smiled, ducking her head.

 

“I’m not brooding like Heathcliff, though,” he said and nudged her. He was the only one who could get away with that. “And we’ll end up together, unlike Cathy and Heathcliff. I mean, unless you have a Linton I don’t know about?”

 

“No, it’s only you,” she reassured him and leaned closer so that they were beak to beak. He kissed her again and she broke off the kiss so that she could sit on his lap. They resumed kissing, his arms about her waist and she ran her fingers through his feathery hair.

 

“Ugh, c’mon, you guys,” Huey complained. “Get a room.”

 

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend,” Dewey shot back, breaking off the kiss. She sighed, resting her head against Dewey’s shoulder.

 

“No, I’m not,” Huey said. “And besides, the JWG says--”

 

“You’re consulting that for help finding a date? No wonder you’re single.”

 

“Lads!” Scrooge reprimanded and raised his eyebrows at Webby straddling Dewey. “Webbigail.”

 

Webby turned scarlet and scurried back to her seat beside Dewey. She could feel the heat coming off her face. Oops.

 

“Since we’re almost there,” he said and gave Webby and Dewey a shrewd look, “I thought I’d establish the base rules again, for Webbigail’s benefit. You are not to separate from the group. You are to remain within radio contact at all times. And under no circumstances are you to disobey me, not unless you have a very good reason.”

 

This last he directed at Huey and Webby wasn’t sure the context, but Huey flushed too.

 

“And you two--at least canoodle when you’re in private,” Scrooge said, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m in the middle of a teenage soap opera.”

 

“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” Dewey said, but a smile played on the corners of his lips.

 

“Yes, Mr. McDuck,” Webby said quietly.

 

“I wouldn’t have asked you along if I didn’t think you could be helpful, Webby,” Scrooge said quietly. “And because I thought you might enjoy it. But…”

 

But he didn’t entirely trust her. She understood that. It stung a little, but he had no reason to trust her beyond Mrs. Beakley, Lena, and Dewey. She hadn’t attempted to contact her father, Black Heron, or anyone in FOWL since returning to the manor, but perhaps that didn’t matter. Perhaps she’d always be regarded with suspicion. Maybe, in that way, her father was right. She didn’t want to think so.

 

“Don’t look so despondent, lass,” Scrooge said. “You’re a good person at heart. You just got a little mixed up along the way.”

 

“Told you,” Dewey said with a smile.

 

“We’re trusting you with our lives,” Huey added and perhaps Webby was being paranoid to read the implied message that she shouldn’t give them a reason to regret it. Or perhaps Steelbeak’s words continued to reverberate in her head and threaten to taint her happiness.

 

“Webbigail,” Scrooge said and she looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have let you near the boys if I thought you would hurt them. Seriously hurt them, I mean. I trust you to take care of everyone and we’ll take care of you, all right?”

 

He squeezed her shoulder. “We’re not FOWL, lassie. Don’t worry so much.”

 

“I know you told me to stay away from Dewey and the rest of your family to scare me into action,” Webby said quietly. Scrooge took his hand off her shoulder.

 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“It looks like you trust me about as far as you can throw me,” Webby said as the plane crashed down. Because of course it crashed. Even when Launchpad was attempting to land gently, they still jostled against the tarmac. Scrooge sighed as the landing gear deployed...after they’d already crashed. What the hell, Launchpad.

 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Forgot what order I was supposed to land in.”

 

“You’re the pilot!” Scrooge reprimanded.

 

“They’ll be at that awhile,” Huey said and gestured for them to follow him off the ship. Webby cast one last glance at Scrooge and Launchpad before descending the stairs. She was still hurt by what Scrooge had done, even if he deemed it necessary. The thought of losing Dewey now was physically painful; it was like someone had her heart in a vice grip.

 

“Didn’t your uncle say not to wander off?” Webby pointed out. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and attempted nonchalance. She wondered whether FOWL had an outpost here. They had them all over the world. She’d been stuck in HQ, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t other locations. It’d be stupid for FOWL to keep all of its eggs in one basket.

 

That reminded her of Steelbeak and she shivered, not entirely due to the cold.

 

“We’ll stay within sight distance of the plane,” Huey said. He was studying her and she frowned back at him.

 

“This is your first adventure, isn’t it?”

 

“I told you,” she said, uncertain why he was making her waspish, but that he was. “I never got to leave HQ until about a month ago. Steelbeak wanted me isolated from everyone else.”

 

Dewey took her hand and interlaced their gloved fingers.

 

“I’m not attacking you,” Huey said. He tried to meet her gaze and she glared back before dropping her head. She knew that in FOWL, such a display would be an admission of submission, but she didn’t want to risk riling up Huey and getting herself thrown out of McDuck Manor. She probably shouldn’t pick fights with any of the boys.

 

“Was that what your life was? One constant fight?” Huey continued and Webby stiffened.

 

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” Dewey said.

 

“We should wait for your great-uncle,” she said, glaring at Huey again. She might not want to pick a fight with Huey, but she didn’t appreciate him prying, either. Why was everyone so keen to get to know her, anyway? It wasn’t like it mattered. She was aware that this was her low self-esteem echoing, that the boys didn’t think of that way, but she couldn’t imagine them reacting any other way.

 

“Webby,” Huey said and held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “We just want to get to know you. And it’s hard when you keep shutting us out.”

 

She cast her gaze downward again. She couldn’t stop assuming ulterior motives, despite the boys’ innate goodness. Dewey was watching her closely too and she yanked her hand away. She wished Lena had come. Lena would have understood.

 

“All right,” Scrooge said and they turned back to see him descending the stairs. “Good, you lot haven’t gotten too far. According to the map, we’ve got a hike ahead of us. Launchpad will carry the supplies. When we reach the mountain, we’ll tie the rope about our waists so we don’t lose anyone.

 

“Ready?” he asked and the boys nodded. She did after a second, her gaze still fixed on the ground. She didn’t feel like she was part of the group. She felt like she’d been invited along for show. Maybe she had been. Maybe this was all a farce.

 

“Let’s go,” he said and they trailed after him. Webby wondered whether she’d made a mistake, agreeing to this. Though she stuck close to the group, she kept her head down and didn’t speak unless spoken to. Instead, she scrutinized everything for potential future use.

 

She couldn’t shut off that part of her mind, that FOWL had trained. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she gazed at the screen before shoving it back in again. It was stupid, to hold onto the last piece of FOWL. She didn’t know why she was doing it, except perhaps to torture herself.

 

* * *

 

 

They reached a stream and stopped for lunch. Dewey and Huey were used to trekking all over the countryside, but although Webby had trained extensively, she didn’t have much experience with inclines. By the time they stopped, her side was killing her and her chest ached. But she didn’t dare complain. Instead, as soon as the others were distracted, she gasped for breath.

 

“Webbigail?”

 

Webby spun and her first instinct was to grab the speaker by the throat. A cane whacked her hands away and she blinked. Oh. Scrooge McDuck. Right. She wasn’t among enemies here.

 

“Webby, if you were having problems keeping up, you should have said something,” he reprimanded. “We would have slowed down.”

 

She shook her head, catching her breath. When it finally came, he was smiling at her.

 

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself, lass,” he said and shook his head. He reached out toward her and she spun away, not letting his hand connect. He dropped it and frowned.

 

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he said as if to remind himself that Webby’s adjustment might take time. She watched him return to the guys and rubbed her chest until she could breathe normally. She didn’t feel like rejoining them. Instead, she watched; they worked so well together. Huey and Dewey, in particular, seemed to move in sync. Perhaps that came from being triplets.

 

“Webs?” Dewey called. “What are you doing behind that tree?”

 

Gaze still downcast, she sat near them and Dewey handed her a sandwich. She assessed the area surrounding them for any threats, real or imagined. When she had determined there was nothing or at least nothing she could sense, she bit into her bologna and cheese sandwich. She assumed her grandmother had prepared lunch.

 

“You know,” Dewey said. “Webby here was reading that book of yours. The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck.”

 

Webby looked up and almost choked on her sandwich. “Dewey!”

 

“You could have just asked me,” Scrooge said. “I would have told you. That book is nothing but lies and rumors about my life compiled by someone that has never met me and was fishing for information.”

 

“Oh,” Webby said, downcast.

 

“You can’t learn everything about people from books, you know,” he said, shaking his head. “You have to talk to them and live with them, experience things with them.”

 

“Like, right now, I’m going to experience taking a selfie in Peru,” Dewey said and darted off. Webby stared. She didn’t know what a selfie was and Huey rolled his eyes, as did Scrooge. Launchpad was busy checking their provisions and either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

 

Dewey moved almost out of their line of sight. “Wait, hang on, I’m getting a good one…”

 

“I told you not to wander off!” Scrooge scolded.

 

“Uh oh,” Dewey said.

 

Webby knew from experience there were no good ‘uh-ohs’. She straightened and then her heart leaped into her throat as she heard Dewey scream. Jumping to her feet, sandwich abandoned, she and Scrooge raced to the river’s bend, where there was a steep drop-off. Dewey was nowhere and her heart pounded frantically. She looked down--Dewey was hanging off the edge of a cliff.

 

“Dewey!” Scrooge reprimanded, sounding more annoyed than worried. “I told you not to--”

 

His grip slipped and Webby screamed, throwing herself down after him and grabbing his arm. She had a few seconds to experience a world without him in it and it petrified her. Scrooge and Launchpad hauled them back up and then further to the more solid ground.

 

“No!” Dewey cried. He darted out again and Webby tackled him about the middle. “You don’t understand! I dropped my phone!”

 

Webby slapped him so hard that the sound echoed. “You idiot! You could have died and you’re worried about your stupid fucking cell phone? What is wrong with you?”

 

“Language, Webbigail,” Scrooge said and his expression darkened. “I told you to stay within the line of sight, Dewey! And stop taking those damn selfies!”

 

“You could have died,” Huey reprimanded. “All for a picture. Are you even thinking?”

 

“All right, I get it, I get it. I screwed up,” Dewey said. Webby was still glaring heatedly at him. “I’m sorry, okay? My bad. Can we just forget about it for the time being? And can I borrow your phone, Huey?”

 

“No, you can’t borrow my phone!” Huey snapped.

 

Webby punched Dewey in the face and knocked him sideways. She was infuriated at how blase Dewey was about the whole thing. Didn’t he know how important he was, especially to her? How could he throw his life away for a picture?

 

“You really don’t hold back when you hit, do you?” Dewey said, holding his cheek. “At least you hit me in the same place so I don’t have two black eyes. Even if it does hurt like crazy.”

 

“Lunchtime, everyone,” Scrooge announced and his gaze lingered on Dewey. “And no more pictures!”

 

They ate lunch in silence. Launchpad had given Dewey an ice pack to bring down the swelling and Webby shot dirty looks at the blue attired boy. A phone. He would have thrown his life away for a phone. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

“Webs, I’m sorry,” Dewey said, holding the ice pack with one hand and eating with the other.  “I’m sorry to all of you.”

 

“Quick thinking back there, lassie,” Scrooge said and smiled at Webby. “I knew we could count on you in a pinch.”

 

“If I’d known it was over a phone, I would’ve let him drop,” Webby said, but she wouldn’t have. She would have rather died than see him perish. She stared at her sandwich instead of looking at Scrooge. It was easier that way.

 

“You do care about him, don’t you?” Scrooge said gently.

 

“Not if he’s going to take stupid risks like that,” she retorted.

 

“Can we talk in private for a few seconds?” Dewey asked and when Webby shrugged, he took that as assent. They walked back behind the tree where Webby had caught her breath and he put a hand on her shoulder. She growled and he took it off.

 

“How could you be so stupid?” she demanded. “Is that all you care about? Your Insta-whatever account? And your followers?”

 

“No, no,” he said. “I care about you too. I do. I wasn’t thinking. I said I was sorry. What more do you want me to say?”

 

“I want you to tell me you’ll never pull a stupid stunt like that again,” she snapped. “I want you to tell me that you care more about me and your family than you do about your stupid internet fame.”

 

“Is that what this is about?” he asked. “I scared you?”

 

She tensed, about to strike him again, and he held his hands up. “Please don’t hit me again.”

 

“I didn’t save your life from FOWL for you to jeopardize it by taking a picture,” she snapped, voice dripping venom.

 

“I know and I’m sorry,” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again, okay? Do you believe me?”

 

“I have no choice, do I?” she said and he pulled her in for a kiss. It was her fault he’d been targeted by FOWL, anyway, but she didn’t say that. Instead, when he kissed her, though she remained angry with him, she kissed him back fervently. When he pulled away, she clung to him. He was one of her few tethers to this new life. If she lost him, where would she be?

 

“I love you,” he said and her stomach did flip-flops. Was he saying that to manipulate her into forgiving him or did he mean it?

 

She paused, uncertain how to respond. She sighed, capitulating. “I love you too. Even if you are an idiot.”

 

Dewey smiled at her and she smiled weakly back.

 

“Oy! We have a schedule to keep!” Scrooge called and they walked back, hand in hand, to the picnic site. He wrapped his arm about her waist and she fisted a hand in his shirt. She had meant it. If she lost him, she didn’t know what would happen to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Launchpad is adorable, Webby has nightmares, and Dewey and Webby have a moment.

When she was five, she cried herself to the sleep for the first time. She missed her granny, she missed McDuck Manor, even though it could be cold and imposing, and she almost missed Scrooge McDuck, despite him almost never acknowledging her presence. Curled up in a ball on a bed in a strange place with a cruel man who claimed to be her father locking her in, she woke up crying. She could taste the tears on her tongue.  
  
It wouldn’t be the last time she went to sleep in tears. When she was eight, she witnessed her first murder. Steelbeak had wanted her to pay attention because everything was a lesson. She had had nightmares for weeks afterward. She couldn’t even consult her memories of her grandmother, because, by that time, she’d forgotten everything about her past life. There was no one to rock her to sleep at night, no one to read her a bedtime story, and no one to tell her it would be okay. It would not be okay and affection was only a way to manipulate people into doing what you wanted.  
  
When she was eleven, she woke up bathed in blood. Black Heron called it her new baptism and then followed the most grueling two weeks of her life, where she came within inches of dying multiple times with Black Heron only sneering at her futile attempts to protect herself. Steelbeak had put a stop to it, but only after Webby stopped fighting and gave up, prepared to die.  
  
When she was thirteen, on her birthday, Black Heron found out that Webby had a favorite kitchen assistant who used to sneak her sweets. She tortured him in front of her and then killed him when she’d grown tired of his screams. It was the last time Webby dared to grow attached to anyone.  
  
At fifteen, she was trotting along behind Huey, Dewey, and Scrooge as they ascended a mountain. Launchpad brought up the rear and her hands shook, remembering the death and carnage she’d witnessed. She pulled her phone out again and dropped it. Quickly, she picked it back up and stowed it back in her jacket, which she zipped up. She had to ensure she didn’t dally because the rope that bound them together wouldn’t allow for daydreaming or sightseeing.  
  
She was still upset with Dewey, but it paled in comparison to what she’d endured. Sunk in her memories, she only paid attention to where she placed her feet and that the rope didn’t grow taut. According to her new friends and her family, she was a good person. According to FOWL, this made her weak and unacceptable. Of course, she’d already betrayed FOWL, so it wasn’t like she was looking for their approval anymore. It was just...she couldn’t explain it to herself.  
  
Huey was rambling something about the JWG and Webby ignored him. It must be nice to have something to define you that you weren’t ostracized for. Dewey was rolling his eyes at his older brother (that was something she’d learned en route--Huey was the oldest by a few seconds) and Scrooge was consulting the map. Launchpad was humming the Darkwing Duck theme and, again, she felt like everyone had a place here except her.  
  
She had saved Dewey’s life, which had to count for something. If she hadn’t leaped into action, he would’ve dropped off the cliff.  
  
“Are you always this quiet?” Dewey asked her.  
  
“Just kinda got lost in my head for a while,” she said.  
  
“Wanna tell me what’s in there?” Dewey said with a smile. Webby’s mind flicked back to the tortured kitchen boy and she shook her head.  
  
“Nothing pleasant,” she said. For a few minutes, the conversation dropped off. Climbing and checking that they didn’t lose footholds was enough exertion that talking was difficult anyway.  
  
“Wanna tell me anyway?” Dewey asked after they’d gone another ten minutes without speaking.  
  
“It’s not...you wouldn’t understand…” she said. “I was just thinking about growing up in FOWL.”  
  
For some reason, that drew everyone’s attention and she flushed, looking askance. Was the topic that interesting? Or were they all bored? It appeared they were reaching the summit and perhaps they were in need of entertainment.  
  
Webby wasn’t comfortable being the center of attention. In FOWL, it had always precipitated something bad. Yet they were all there, staring at her like whatever she had to say was riveting.  
  
“Like what?” Dewey asked.  
  
“She doesn’t have to tell you if she doesn’t want to, lad,” Scrooge said and although Webby was grateful for his intervention, she remained irritated with him in general for his reprehensible behavior. He hadn’t needed to tell her that her grandmother was dead and then, amending that, that she was dying. It was unnecessary, when she’d already been miserable and contemplating changing sides.  
  
Simply because he’d apologized didn’t mean she’d forgiven him.  
  
She wanted to hurt Scrooge, not physically, only horrify him to show him what she’d endured at FOWL’s hands. However, she couldn’t do that without horrifying Huey, Dewey, and Launchpad too. Launchpad seemed like the sort of delicate man-child to run off half-cocked. Yet there was, undeniably, a temptation to fling a proverbial knife in Scrooge’s heart and twist. Perhaps it was too much time spent around villains growing up, the temptation to inflict as much damage as possible without laying a finger on someone. There was more than one way to skin a cat, after all. (And that was something she could have done without seeing as well).  
  
“When I was eight, FOWL killed an agent in front of me,” Webby said, gazing ahead and not at the others. “Black Heron and Steelbeak wanted to ensure that I knew what would happen if anyone attempted to rescue me and how weak SHUSH agents were. I had nightmares for weeks afterward.”  
  
She could still sometimes hear the agent’s screams in her nightmares. They halted, gawking at her. She wasn’t sure if it was her matter of fact tone that they disagreed with or the sheer horror of what she’d endured. Launchpad, in particular, was aghast.  
  
“So, yeah, life at FOWL HQ sucked,” Webby said. “Any more questions?”  
  
There was a pained silence and the others drew back. For another half hour, they proceeded without commenting. The air grew thinner and Webby shivered, cold despite her heavy parka. Dewey lagged a little behind so he could gaze back at her and show how sorry he was for asking and for what she’d endured.  
  
At last, they arrived at the summit. When they did and after they had prepared to enter the cave, Scrooge drew Webby aside.  
  
“Webbigail…” he said. “I know you’re still upset with me.”  
  
Webby glanced into the narrow opening; the cave was far warmer than the outside air and they were isolated, standing in front of it on top of a narrow precipice that barely had enough room for both of them. Dewey poked his head out of the cave entrance to glance at them and Scrooge shooed him and Huey away. Launchpad had to be physically shoved backward; the gaze he gave Webby was pitiful.  
  
“You might have frightened Launchpad a bit,” he admitted. “I’ve never heard him so quiet.”  
  
“You tried to keep me from Dewey and Granny at a time when I needed to talk to them,” Webby said.  
  
“Aye, I know,” he said. “I wanted to see how you’d fare without them. You acquitted yourself well with Steelbeak, lass.”  
  
“That doesn’t make what you did right,” Webby said. She was aware she was treading on dangerously thin ice here. If she offended him, he could throw her out. He still might. She ought to behave herself. However, after years of suppressing her emotions and being told anything other than rage was unhealthy, it was hard to restrain herself.  
  
“I never said that it did,” he said softly. “And for the record, lass, I’m not going to throw you out for being upset with me.”  
  
“How did you…” she stopped herself.  
  
“Your granny might’ve mentioned that you’ve been living like you’re afraid you won’t be there much longer,” Scrooge said. “You’re family, Webbigail. And I should not have treated you like I did. You don’t have to accept my apology if you don’t want to.”  
  
She sighed. For the good of this adventure and for the solidarity of the group, she ought to accept it. And for what it was worth, he seemed sincere and contrite. When he offered her his hand to shake, she shook it. He smiled at her; she hadn’t said he was forgiven, but he seemed to be all right with the outcome, regardless. They moved into the cave, where Huey was consulting the JWG and Launchpad suddenly lurched away from the group to hug Webby so tightly she could barely breathe. Oddly enough, she hadn’t seen that coming.  
  
“Are you okay?” he demanded, as though the incident she had mentioned had taken place an hour ago instead of seven years ago. “They didn’t hurt you, right?”  
  
“Launchpad…” she gasped and pushed away from him. She sprang back on her feet and hated how she was small for her age.  
  
Now was probably not the time to tell him she’d been physically abused and sometimes beaten to a pulp by Black Heron and whatever FOWL agent was in a foul mood at the time. Steelbeak had never hurt her, not like that, not to release his aggression. It was, if not a demonstration of love, at least a demonstration of tolerance.  
  
“Launchpad, they’re not here right now!” Scrooge scolded. “You can’t do anything against people that are a continent or two away!”  
  
Launchpad put his hands on her shoulders. “Did they hurt you?”  
  
“I got them back,” she said, which wasn’t really an answer. “I got Black Heron back.”  
  
“Then they did--” he started, looking gravely concerned, as did Huey and Dewey, for that matter. They were crowding in and she hissed, backing up and away from everyone. She didn’t like being crowded and she was disused to so much close attention. She didn’t understand how what she’d gone through was remarkable. Didn’t most people have childhoods like that?  
  
For the most part, though, she was right. She had punished Black Heron, perhaps not as much as she’d deserved, but she’d managed to defeat her. As for the others, she hadn’t taken it personally. She was just in the wrong place at the right time.  
  
“If I ever see them…” Launchpad said warningly.  
  
“Yes, yes, but you won’t,” Scrooge said. “Now, let’s get further inside before we freeze.”  
  
They walked forward, but this time, not in single file as they had when ascending the mountain. She was flanked by two of the three triplets.  
  
“They seriously hit you?” Huey said, outraged.  
  
Webby shrugged. “I thought…”  
  
She trailed off, seeing their faces. “Never mind.”  
  
“You thought that was normal? To be smacked around?” Dewey asked, incredulous.  
  
Webby hugged herself, feeling defensive. “I didn’t say that. Besides, I’m fine now. And I know Black Heron can’t touch me, so I don’t have to worry about it.”  
  
She compartmentalized everything so it wouldn’t hurt so much. It occurred to her that this might not have been the best way to deal with trauma and that everything would eventually burst out of its box, possibly at the worst time. It was the first time in her life she was around someone she thought she could trust. Dewey’s eyes found hers in the dim light, illuminated by their flashlights, and her chest was tight.  
  
“That doesn’t make it right,” Huey said, oddly echoing what she’d said earlier to Scrooge.  
  
“You shouldn’t have asked, then,” she said flatly, choosing to walk ahead of them now. Since they were all bound by the same cord, she couldn’t walk too far and the boys caught up again.  
  
“Webby, seriously, you can’t keep pushing it away and not dealing with it,” Huey said. “It’s not healthy.”  
  
“I’m fine,” she said and heard the lie in her voice. And if she could, there was no way that the others could fail to pick up on it.  
  
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to push her,” Scrooge said. “We should probably focus on finding the lost treasure.”  
  
As he said it, his eyes lit up and Webby’s stomach clenched. Black Heron couldn’t reach her, right? She wasn’t even on the same continent. And she would have no interest in revenge, not after such a sound beating, right? Webby’s heart beat double time. She didn’t want to find out she was wrong.  
  


* * *

  
At the present, two people on diametrically opposed sides were aware that Webby still had the FOWL burner phone on her. One of them was Ludwig von Drake, who was having a problem getting through to her to tell her to throw the phone away. Her GPS occasionally updated, despite the phone appearing to be off. The other was a FOWL agent whose job it was to keep an eye on Webby, as ordered by Steelbeak. Despite his incarceration, Steelbeak had a vested interest in his daughter. He wasn’t going to relinquish what he considered his property without a fight.  
  
It wouldn’t have stood up in court. For one thing, as a convict actively committing crimes who had kidnapped his offspring, he had no credibility. For another, Mrs. Beakley had been Webby’s guardian as written out legally since her hatching. Neither of those things mattered to Steelbeak. He had a different set of priorities.  
  
The other agent was keeping a detailed list of Webbigail’s comings and goings. He knew that Webby was in Peru right now and as soon as the jailbreak went down, he’d feed the information straight to Steelbeak. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t discarded the phone, but he was grateful. It would make things, going forward, much easier.  
  
Unless she took it out of her pocket and examined it, he was unable to take a picture of her for Steelbeak. If she threw away the phone before they returned to Duckburg, it wouldn’t matter. FOWL had agents capable of descending upon her in Peru, so long as Steelbeak said the word from jail. Or as soon as he was sprung.  
  
So while her decisions made no sense to the agent, he didn’t question it. He had a job to do and, as he’d witnessed, questioning the higher-ups could be deadly.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Aha!” Scrooge cried gleefully. They had been walking for a good two hours and the teenagers wore their jackets tied about their waists. Launchpad was sweating instead and Scrooge showed no signs of being bothered by the temperature at all. Webby’s gaze was drawn to the pedestal on which a small treasure sat.  
  
This must be the lost Scepter of the Inca. Webby wasn’t certain whether it was worth money because it was lost or because it had mystical powers. Scrooge approached the Scepter carefully, checking to see whether there were traps nearby. And, of course, there were.  
  
Arrows flew out of the walls of the narrow chamber and Webby, flinging out her arms, shoved both boys down with her before they ended up impaled. This might not have been necessary--they had a lot more experience adventuring than she did--but she’d protected them without conscious thought.  
  
“And then there will be…” Scrooge said and Webby sprang to her feet and pushed Launchpad back before he became a roasted pelican. She could feel the heat of the fire pass her and grimaced. Close calls were not her favorite things in the world.  
  
“Isn’t there usually a third thing?” Huey asked, brushing himself off and nodding his thanks to Webby.  
  
An ax dropped down from the floor and Webby tackled Scrooge; it had cut into his top hat and would have chopped him in half if not for her intervention. As it was, that was another close call. Her heart pounded.  
  
“You do this for fun?” she asked, baffled.  
  
“It might be an acquired taste,” Scrooge admitted. Webby glanced up, saw a button carved into the stone, and vaulted towards it. She hit it, halting the ax and hopefully preventing a reprise of the flamethrower and the arrows.  
  
“Now, to take the Scepter…” Scrooge said and, after the last three attacks, he took his time. He removed it, the pedestal sank down into the floor, and they heard a grinding noise.  
  
“Move!” she and Scrooge cried at once and the back wall fell away to reveal a giant boulder rolling after them. They hurried, exiting the chamber, whipping around a corner, and losing the boulder, which couldn’t navigate the turn and kept rolling on. Webby, despite herself, felt a small smile break across her beak.  
  
“Finally,” Scrooge said. “And back down the mountain we go, kids.”  
  
“Mr. McDee?” Launchpad said.  
  
“Aye, what is it, Launchpad?” Scrooge asked, suppressing a groan.  
  
“Now might be a bad time to tell you that I thought I heard the rocks fall earlier. We might be caved in.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Scrooge said.  
  
“You didn’t think to tell us that sooner?” Huey exclaimed.  
  
Webby started to run back toward the entrance but was hampered by the rope secured about her waist. The only way they could escape would be if they followed the order in which they were strung and, reluctantly, wary of tripping up the boys, she stopped. They hastened back toward the cave entrance, which was partially closed off. Webby’s earlier rush of adrenaline that had prompted the smile faded, replaced by incredulity.  
  
“Why didn’t you say something?” Scrooge snapped.  
  
“It didn’t seem important,” Launchpad said. “And you were super focused on the Scepter.”  
  
“It didn’t seem important?” Scrooge echoed, a dangerous note entering his voice. “In what world did it not seem important?”  
  
“Um, this one, and, uh...you’re not happy with me. I see that now,” Launchpad said.  
  
“At least it’s only partially covered,” Huey offered. “We should be able to get it uncovered and escape before the sun goes down.”  
  
“We have two hours,” Scrooge said, consulting his wristwatch. “Let’s get started.”  
  
He suppressed a groan. “And I’m docking you half a day’s pay for this, Launchpad.”  
  
Launchpad shrugged. “Sounds fair.”  
  
They set to work. It was an onerous task, involving moving boulders and slowly uncovering the entrance by degrees. Webby was aware of the time; it didn’t look like they’d finish in two hours, despite Launchpad’s strong-arming and Webby’s ability to lift heavy objects. The boys and Scrooge weren’t as strong as she and Launchpad, which was to their detriment right now.  
  
Sure enough, two hours into their sifting and shifting objects, the sun went down and Scrooge sighed.  
  
“Might as well get the sleeping bags out and start dinner,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re not going anywhere.”  
  
They set about their task and Webby was aware that this would be the first time she’d be sleeping beside someone in an open area. She was tense, though she knew consciously she could trust them. Subconsciously was another matter. She twitched, wishing she had her weapons so badly that it was like a physical ache. Her hands trembled.  
  
“Webby, are you okay?” Dewey asked. “You’re shaking.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” she said, putting her sleeping bag near his. Dinner was cooking over a spit. It didn’t look appetizing, but then again, at least she knew it wasn’t a dead SHUSH agent cooked to a light brown.  
  
“I just kinda miss my weapons,” she said and smiled, chagrined.  
  
“Is it like a comfort thing or, you know…” Huey trailed off, worried she might want to stab them in the night.  
  
“It’s a comfort thing,” she reassured him. “If you knew you could get jumped at any minute, having protection on hand was good.”  
  
“Webbigail, no one’s going to jump you,” Scrooge said. Launchpad was cooking and Scrooge wrinkled his beak.  
  
“I know that,” she said. “It’s a habit.”  
  
She shoved her hands down beneath the jacket and Dewey wrapped an arm about her shoulders.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that here,” he soothed. “You’re among friends.”  
  
He leaned closer and murmured, “And maybe a boyfriend, if you want me.”  
  
Webby turned scarlet.  
  
“You know we all heard you, right?” Huey said, nonplussed. “You’re not as suave as you think you are, Dewey.”  
  
“I saw her first,” Dewey huffed.  
  
“Can we stop with the teenage hormone-addled theatre?” Scrooge huffed. “I don’t want to hear it.”  
  
“Just saying,” Dewey said and Huey punched him in the arm hard. Webby’s eyes widened and Dewey responded by hitting him back. Should she intervene? Was this normal brother behavior? Bewildered, she glanced up at Launchpad and Scrooge.  
  
“They’ll settle down in a minute,” Scrooge reassured her. “They’re boys. They roughhouse.”  
  
“I used to roughhouse with my sister,” Launchpad offered. “Before she got too old for it.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Scrooge said.  
  
“Yeah, sister and parents and everything,” Launchpad said. He shrugged. “They’re all successful pilots. I was kinda the black sheep.”  
  
Sure enough, the boys stopped fighting and Dewey popped up beside her with dirt in his hair. She rolled her eyes at him and picked it out. He caught her wrist and kissed her palm. Webby blushed again and leaned against him.  
  
“Did you know my sister hasn’t even had her first crash yet?” Launchpad said and shook his head. “I thought that was a rite of passage.”  
  
“Isn’t it a good thing that she hasn’t crashed?” Huey asked, frowning. He straightened his hat out.  
  
“No way,” Launchpad said. “What’s the point of getting dangerous if you’re never actually dangerous?”  
  
Scrooge sighed, clearly seeing that this was a fruitless argument. Dinner was almost done, anyway. Dewey wrapped his arm about her waist and snuggled against her. Webby was surprised, both by his gesture and that it was PDA. She hadn’t expected to find a suitor, much less one so brazen.  
  
She snuggled back against him and her heart raced. She flicked at his hair playfully.  
  
“What? Is there something in my hair?” he asked.  
  
“No,” she said. “I just felt like it.”  
  
“Oh,” he said and smiled back.  
  
Scrooge groaned, rolling his eyes. He decided he was going to ignore them, judging by his turning away from them. That was fine with Webby. She almost wasn’t hungry because she wanted Dewey more.  
  
But...food was good too. Even if she had the feeling Launchpad had just overcooked it.  
  


* * *

  
  
After everyone had fallen asleep and Webby was trying to stop herself from reaching for her weapons, Dewey rolled over in his sleeping bag until he was up against her. Was he awake? Or was he just tossing and turning in his sleep? His eyes found hers in the darkness--deliberate, then.  
  
“Hey,” he whispered.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered back.  
  
He kissed her and she responded with gusto. The sleeping bag was getting in the way; was there enough room for her to slip into his? Or was that a step too far? She could feel the heat of him through the bag unless that was her imagination.  
  
He pushed his tongue against her beak and she opened her beak for him with a small sigh. They made out and heat rushed to her face. Her mind was running toward the gutter, but she didn’t think she’d get away with it, even if she wanted it. Besides, she might be pushing things too far too fast. She just wanted this intimacy, wanted the reassurance Dewey wouldn’t leave her.  
  
A cane snapped between them and Webby choked.  
  
“Oy, get a room, you two,” Scrooge barked. “Go back to sleep, Dewey.”  
  
“Sorry,” Dewey said cheekily and Webby knew he wasn’t apologetic at all. She smiled and nuzzled her beak against his. He made her feel alive in a completely different way than being in FOWL had. This was life-affirming, beautiful in its simplicity and wonderful in how freely he gave affection. She greedily soaked it up. She might’ve been touch deprived.  
  
Scrooge rolled over, putting his back to them, and Dewey rolled his eyes at his great-uncle. Dewey cuddled Webby against him and she smiled. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep very easily, but at least there was a chance she could. A slim chance, mind you, but she’d take what she could get.  
  
Did she want him to be her boyfriend? Yes, she did. It felt strange to have that kind of attachment. But...right in a way. She closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you.”  
  
She was still half expecting a rejection. Dewey smiled against her beak.  
  
“I love you too,” he whispered back and she beamed.  
  
“Good night!” Scrooge barked and Dewey snorted. He turned over, away from her, and she followed him. She pressed her head against his back and attempted sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More nightmares, Webby discovers how abnormal her childhood experience was, and they return to Duckburg.

She’d thought, surrounded by people, that when she dropped off into sleep, she might be spared her normal nightmares. Instead, even with Dewey’s warmth around her, she dropped into a horrid dream, a vision of what might have been…

 

* * *

 

 

She stood her ground as SHUSH agents darted around her. Their footfalls echoed, as though they were a stampede. However, she only had eyes for two people approaching her. As Dewey’s silhouette became obvious, despair swamped her. She couldn’t kill him. After all, she wasn’t even sure she could poison her grandmother and she was her assignment.

 

Why was Dewey here? What did he think he was going to convince her? He needed to leave, leave before she did something irrevocable.

 

Automatically, her arms rose, a gun held in her hands. She sighted along the barrel at Dewey’s heart like she’d been trained. Webby was screaming in her head and unable to move her arms. Her finger squeezed the trigger and, unlike last time, there were bullets in this gun.

 

The bullet flew true, striking him in the heart. Webby screamed but her hands were stuck to the gun. No, no, no. Dewey collapsed at her feet and Webby screamed again, growing hysterical. She collapsed beside him onto her knees and tried to fling the gun away. It sighted along, almost by itself, and aimed in her grandmother’s direction. It kicked, sending her back a little, and hit its second target. She tasted blood in her mouth--she had bitten her cheek--but it was nothing compared to the blood now coating the ground before her.

 

Without a word, a look of betrayal in her eyes, her grandmother collapsed beside her and Webby’s nerves stretched to the breaking point. SHUSH agents were starting to converge on her location and her heart pounded. She didn’t pay any attention to the enemy.

 

She was looking at Dewey and her grandmother, who were lying in a pool of blood. She pulled Dewey into her lap and finally flung the gun into the grass. His heart was pumping blood out onto her pants and she cried in despair. His eyes found hers and he smiled, forgiving her for the unforgivable. When he coughed, blood specks flew onto his lips.

 

“Really? Shooting me? Rude,” Dewey said and Webby dissolved into tears. She didn’t know how he could be so blase about dying and it didn’t matter. Unable to help herself, she doubled over with sobs. Her grandmother was speaking, but it was drowned out.

 

“Atta girl,” Steelbeak said, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere. “I knew you were your father’s daughter.”

 

* * *

 

 

He’d never seen someone attempt to cry quietly in their sleep. Webby was shaking with sobs, rocking herself back and forth in a vain attempt to self-soothe. Dewey pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. He wasn’t sure she’d noticed; she was crying so hard that even though it was silent, her body trembled with the effort. Tears streaked her cheeks.

 

“Webby…” Dewey said. “Webby, it was just a nightmare. Breathe, Webs.”

 

Uncle Scrooge turned on a flashlight and studied Webby’s features in the softened light. He had it pointed against the fabric of his sleeping bag to prevent blinding anyone. Even without intending to, Webby had woken the others up (except Launchpad). It reminded Dewey of their finding Webby in the playground and he wondered whether these nightmares were routine for her.

 

“Best to wake her up, lad,” Scrooge said quietly. “Before it gets much worse.”

 

Webby froze in his arms and then twisted her head around to look at him. Her vision was lined with tears and he was surprised she could make him out. Maybe she couldn’t. She didn’t attack him, which he was going to assume was a good sign. Instead, she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

 

“What were you dreaming about?” Huey asked.

 

“That I killed Dewey and Granny…” Webby breathed, shivering in Dewey’s arms. In an undertone, she added, “And Steelbeak was so proud...I don’t want to go back...please don’t make me go back…”

 

“No one’s making you go back,” Scrooge said. Launchpad remained fast asleep; perhaps he was a sound sleeper. Dewey couldn’t remember the last time he’d successfully woken him up, come to think of it.

 

“I know…” Webby said quietly, but she was still quivering. Dewey nuzzled her. Had she been that afraid of losing him? Now he really felt like a dick for that selfie stunt earlier. No wonder she’d been so pissed at him.

 

She must’ve been half asleep to have revealed so much. She sagged against him and he eased her back toward the ground. He was reluctant to release her, though. There was a chance she might have further nightmares.

 

“Think that’s what she dreams about normally?” Huey asked when it appeared Webby had fallen asleep again.

 

“Aye, I do,” Scrooge said quietly. “Though I’ve never seen someone cry quietly in their sleep before.”

 

“She must’ve trained herself,” Huey said and he sounded both impressed and disturbed. Dewey felt the same. He stroked Webby’s hair and she whimpered, scooting backward into him. Poor, poor Webby.

 

“I can’t think of why she’d do that, though…” Huey said, frowning.

 

“She must’ve been punished for crying in her sleep,” Scrooge said and Dewey shuddered. The thought was almost more horrifying than her dream had been. It made him want to hold her tightly and never let go. He imagined Mrs. Beakley would feel similarly.

 

“Poor lass,” he said and touched her bow. She whimpered again, rolling into Dewey.

 

“Let’s see if we can get some more sleep and then we’ll try to make it back down the mountain,” Scrooge suggested. His gaze lingered on Webby, even after he’d extinguished the light. Dewey had a hard time falling back asleep after that. He was haunted by whatever “punishments” Webby might have incurred.

 

* * *

 

True to what he’d thought, Dewey never fell asleep. He remained awake until the sun’s first rays peeked through into the cave. Webby, he was disconcerted to see, was shaking in her sleep again, suppressing sobs. He wasn’t the only one awake. Judging by their red eyes, the others hadn’t slept well either. (Excepting, again, Launchpad, who remained oblivious to everything).

 

Scrooge was watching Webby with something like paternal concern.

 

“She must have PTSD from FOWL,” Scrooge remarked quietly. “We cannae do anything about it right now; we should wake her and set back down the mountain.”

 

Launchpad startled awake as if his boss’s voice had been the catalyst to rouse him from a sound slumber.

 

“What’s going on?” Launchpad asked, staring around him. His gaze fell on Webby. “Is she okay?”

 

“She’s had nightmares all night,” Dewey said, sighing. He was exhausted and wished he hadn’t tried to sleep at all. It was almost like he’d had the reverse of sleep and the energy was sucked away from him.

 

“What kind of nightmares? Like, the kind with flesh-eating slugs from Mars? Or mole monsters? Or---”

 

“You didnae want to know,” Scrooge said quietly, putting the kibosh on Launchpad’s questioning, at least for now.

 

“Okay, but it looks like she’s crying,” he said and Dewey grimaced. Yes, Webby was sobbing in her sleep again, in that unnervingly silent way she had. He shook her gently and she smacked him in the face. All right, looked like last night was just a fluke. Now she was back to battering him.

 

“Webby, wake up!” Dewey whispered.

 

Webby startled awake, bolting upright and jumping to her feet. Her hands automatically flew toward her hips, where she’d kept her weapons, and she came up blank. Growling, she rounded on Dewey, as the person who’d had the misfortune of waking her, and was about to strike him again when Launchpad grabbed her.

 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Launchpad soothed and, as he was the last person anyone expected to be placating her, everyone stared. Webby desisted, perhaps because Launchpad’s voice was unfamiliar and yet linked only to her current situation, not to FOWL in any way. She spun about in his arms and gawked.

 

“Launchpad?” she said, incredulous.

 

Launchpad thumbed her tears away. “I’m gonna protect you from all that stuff. You need a guardian angel.”

 

“You cannae be serious, Launchpad,” Scrooge said, staring at the tableau.

 

“I am,” he insisted. “If any of her demons come anywhere near me, I’ll kick their butt!”

 

“They’re not that kind of demons,” Huey said, stretching. He got up and started packing away his sleeping bag. Dewey grimaced, realizing he should’ve been doing the same. He’d gotten distracted by Webby, as usual.

 

“Steelbeak and Black Heron are,” Launchpad pointed out.

 

“They won’t be getting anywhere near Webbigail,” Scrooge said.

 

“That’s what you think,” Launchpad replied.

 

“Launchpad, whose side are you on?” Scrooge demanded.

 

“Your side, her side, I don’t know, does it matter?” he asked and Scrooge sighed, facepalming.

 

“Never mind,” he said, sounding weary. “Let’s start breakfast and then head back down the mountain before anything else goes wrong this morning.”

 

They set about arresting the camp and preparing breakfast before departing. Webby put on her jacket again with a shiver and Dewey scooted next to her.

 

“I didn’t keep you up, did I?” she asked, frowning. “None of you look like you got much sleep.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Webs,” he said, shaking his head. “How did you learn how to cry without making noise in your sleep?”

 

“Oh, that,” she said, nonchalant, but her gaze slid away from him regardless. Launchpad was attempting to light a fire and all that came out was smoke. He rubbed the two sticks together more vigorously, producing more smoke and then, finally, a fire. He whooped...and the fire died, perhaps a result of his exhalation. Scrooge and Huey groaned and Huey offered to take over with some JWG guideline in mind.

 

“I had to,” she said. “It was either that or keep waking up to Black Heron insulting me or throwing me into a fighting scenario to punish me for crying in my sleep. It’s not a big deal.”

 

Scrooge’s gaze cut to hers again. “You do know normal children didnae have that experience, don’t you?”

 

Webby shrugged. “I wasn’t really a child so much as a junior FOWL agent.”

 

“And isn’t that disturbing,” Scrooge muttered.

 

“Hey,” Huey said, looking up. “I wanted to thank you for saving all of our lives last night. We wouldn’t have gotten the Sceptre without you.”

 

“It was nothing,” she said, waving it off. She smiled. “But you’re welcome.”

 

“Finally!” Huey exclaimed when the fire caught. “All right, what’s for breakfast?”

 

“Rations and water,” Scrooge said.

 

“There is no way to make that sound appetizing,” Dewey groused.

 

“I didnae say it was,” Scrooge retorted. “At least we’ll have better food once we’re back to civilization.”

 

* * *

 

 

Webby didn’t remember waking in the middle of the night; the effects of her nightmares had been felt by the entire group, which left her unsettled. She didn’t like when people had something on her. True, she knew intellectually that they wouldn’t use it against her, but experience told her that someone would eventually hurt her with it. They rappelled down the mountain and Dewey kept trying to engage her in conversation. Unfortunately for him, she felt like she’d already divulged too much.

 

When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Launchpad started the Sunchaser and they entered. Webby looked for the chair furthest from everyone; all the seats were near the cockpit, however, which meant she had nowhere to hide. She felt like a wounded animal, where everyone knew her vulnerability but no one would tell her what it was.

 

“Hey,” Dewey said and she shrugged. Her mind flashed back to those voicemails he’d left and she unbuckled her seatbelt. With Dewey looking at her quizzically, she darted to the hatch door, which Launchpad was in the process of closing. Reaching into her pocket, she flung the cell phone out into space. Part of her felt like it’d been thrown out with it. She’d never recover those voicemails. But...at least it wouldn’t be used against her. That was what was important.

 

“Uh...any particular reason you did that?” Huey asked and she startled, hissing and assuming a defensive position.

 

“You don’t have to be on guard against us,” Huey said, frowning. “And if you’re worried about your nightmares, everyone has nightmares. We’re not holding them against you.”

 

She nodded, though she didn’t believe it. It was easy to say that, but in the heat of the moment, any could turn against you. No. That wasn’t true. Her stomach jerked at the thought and she refused to entertain the idea that Dewey could turn against her. Maybe Lena...but she didn’t want to imagine that either. And her grandmother...it was too painful to contemplate. Even if she didn’t yet feel the love her grandmother bore for her.

 

“Seriously, Webby,” he said and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened. “You don’t remember telling us what the nightmares were about?”

 

She scowled, unwilling to admit that much vulnerability.

 

“You dreamt that you killed Dewey and your grandmother and you begged us not to send you back to FOWL,” he said. She froze. On the plus side, he’d told her what had happened, which meant he couldn’t lord it over her. On the minus side, she’d exposed a gaping vulnerability. She cast her gaze on the now closed hangar door.

 

“We’re not going to send you back,” he said. “We’re not heartless. And we’re not cruel. And I don’t know how or why you got so attached to my brother so quickly, but we’re not going to punish you for it.”

 

Webby slumped, her throat tight. She still couldn’t meet Huey’s eyes.

 

“You’re family, remember?” he said softly. “We’re not going to throw you out.”

 

Webby bit the inside of her cheek.

 

“I’m serious. You’re in good company. You’re a good person, Webby. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have saved all of us before. You have PTSD. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

At last, she dared to tear her gaze away from the door and glanced in his direction.

 

“You’re not weak,” he said.

 

How had he known that that was what she was thinking? She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and Dewey joined them. Dewey smiled at her and she attempted to muster a smile back. It must not have worked, because he winced.

 

“You okay?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t mean to keep you up,” she said softly.

 

Dewey hugged her tightly and prompted a surprised gasp. She hugged him tightly back when it looked like he might pull away. She carded her fingers through his hair. While she didn’t remember the dream per se, she could imagine it well enough.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dewey said, brushing it off. “Did you get any sleep?”

 

She reluctantly shook her head. “All nightmares.”

 

“We saw you crying in your sleep,” Huey said. “Silently.”

 

“Good,” she said and then hastily amended her statement, because the boys were looking at her in alarm. “I mean, good that I was quiet.”

 

“No, not good,” Huey said. “We’re not going to attack you for being upset over something that’s genuinely disturbing. If you have to cry, you should and not do it like that.”

 

Crying aloud was novel, considering what she’d endured and trained herself to do. She resisted the urge to hug herself; she didn’t have to, anyway. Dewey was clutching her and she rested her chin on his shoulder. Her fingers dug into his shirt. They could probably all use showers, but she didn’t care. She could feel Dewey’s heartbeat against hers.

 

“Why...why do you care?” she asked, which probably wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.

 

“You live in the manor,” Huey said. “You’re Mrs. Beakley’s granddaughter and Dewey’s girlfriend. And...you’re supposed to be with us. You should have grown up with us when we went to the manor. I sound like Dewey.”

 

“Hey! What’s wrong with sounding like me?” Dewey objected.

 

“I’m just saying that I usually prefer books and statistics rather than feeling from my gut. But you should’ve grown up with us, Webby,” he said. “You lost your childhood.”

 

She couldn’t deny that, try as she might. She frowned deeply and refused to release Dewey, even if he might be growing uncomfortable. He didn’t show any signs of that, thankfully. Didn’t he know how precious he was to her? Oh, and if he decided he was going to take another selfie on a cliff, she was pushing him off it.

 

“You’re part of the family,” he repeated. She closed her eyes. She started to release Dewey, but he wasn’t reciprocating. Perhaps he sensed she needed the hug more than she said.

 

“C’mon,” Huey said. “We should strap in before we end up going flying when Launchpad takes off.”

 

She nodded and Dewey released her only to hold her hand. She smiled at him and he pecked her on the cheek. Huey rolled her eyes and she grinned, Huey’s reaction to this somehow making it better. Making it normal. She’d never been normal before, after all. It’d be nice to try for a change.

 

They reached the front of the Sunchaser and Scrooge nodded at them. He smiled at Webby. “Feeling better, lass?”

 

Webby shrugged and then said with a sheepish smile, “I could do with some sleep.”

 

“Aye, so could we all,” he said and then shot Launchpad a look. “But that doesn’t extend to you! Don’t fall asleep at the wheel!”

 

“I’ve only done that, like, twice,” Launchpad objected. Scrooge sighed, shaking his head at him.

 

“Twice is two times too many!” he snapped. “I’ll keep watch. You kids get some sleep.”

 

Wary of lapsing into nightmares again, nonetheless she strapped herself in, as did the boys. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on Dewey’s shoulder. Their hands were still entwined and she smiled.

 

“I love you,” he murmured in her ear.

 

“I love you too,” she whispered back.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken entirely too long, but he’d finally gotten out of his cage. Steelbeak knew that his daughter had returned to Duckburg, though it was too dangerous for him to linger there, even underground. For one thing, security around McDuck Manor was at an all-time high. A Beagle Boy had run off the grounds with third-degree burns from Scrooge’s new system. And that was a test. Steelbeak didn’t feel like becoming a rotisserie chicken.  
  
It was frustrating to return to St. Canard and feel like he had nothing to show for it. He didn’t want to settle back down in FOWL HQ. It was too far away from Webbigail. He also didn’t want to encounter Black Heron and her incessant nattering about Webby’s betrayal. On the few occasions when he’d spoken to her since her capture, that was all she’d bothered to tell him. If anything, she hated Webby more now than she had in the past.  
  
Black Heron only had herself to blame for her predicament. As such, Steelbeak refused to spring her. If she wanted to be stupid, she could go be stupid somewhere else. Steelbeak’s objectives hadn’t changed, but he was going to have a hard time accomplishing them given the increased security about McDuck Manor. Plus, he couldn’t show his face in Duckburg, so he’d need a henchman to do it. That wasn’t appealing--he wanted to see Webby’s face personally when he killed Dewey. Dewey, Lena, and Mrs. Beakley had to be eliminated for Webby to realize that she had no one else.  
  
Through his surveillance, he knew that Dewey and Webby went out together in town. They were also very hands-on, which was disturbing to him on multiple levels. Webby acted as though she were touch-starved and Steelbeak thought it was preposterous. The whole situation was preposterous. That he had put his life on hold for this damn child was beyond absurd.  
  
After all, Webby had proven she was no child of his. She had repudiated him. That alone should prove she wasn’t trustworthy. Plus, his spies within SHUSH had told him she was making overtures to them. The spy had also said that Webby had yet to give anything of substance, however.  
  
What would he do with her once he had her again? Aside from convincing her, at her lowest, that she needed him, he’d have to keep her secured again. He’d have to also keep Black Heron away from her. Perhaps some time in solitary would convince Webby to seek the error of her ways. If she came out of it sane, that was. If she didn’t, well, he’d still have her close at hand.  
  
Settling in his chair, he envisioned it. Webby would be broken, desperate for approval and affection. For one, he couldn’t be stingy. He’d give her whatever she wanted so that she learned that when she needed something, he was the only one who could provide it. True, he would have deprived her of the people she loved, but there was a way around that. If he could prove that he’d done it to protect her…  
  
She wouldn’t buy that. No, he would have to step back and settle for a video camera of their murders. The idea rankled. He couldn’t risk confronting her directly; then she would know it was him and never forgive him. At present, she probably was doing her best to forget him. By killing the ones she cared about, if she knew for certain he’d done it, she would develop a vendetta.  
  
He swirled his wine around in its glass. He could use something stronger than alcohol, but he didn’t want to risk his neck for anything right now. It might attract unwanted attention.  
  
He’d been keyed into Duckburg’s security grid so he could watch his daughter as long as she was outside. Webby wasn’t doing anything of interest, so he switched to survey his henchmen. The problem with the Eggheads was that they were incompetent. How could he trust any of them to kill his targets? No, he’d have to hire from outside. There was always Falcon Graves, but Steelbeak wasn’t certain whether he actually killed people or just intimidated them to death.  
  
Webby had discarded the FOWL phone, which didn’t surprise him. He’d been more surprised that she’d held onto it as long as she had. Of course, SHUSH and McDuck Enterprises had joined together to prevent Steelbeak or any FOWL agent from procuring Webby’s new number. None of his agents were having any luck cracking the security around that.  
  
Drumming his fingers on the desk, he scrolled down through the list of potential assassins. Black Heron would probably do it for free, though she wouldn’t stop at killing the kid, her enemy, or the former shadow. No, she’d want permission to hunt Webby too. If he could hold her leash, perhaps there was a chance. Steelbeak placed her at the bottom of the list.  
  
Taurus Bulba was too unpredictable and explosive for Steelbeak’s tastes. Plus...he made him uneasy. It wasn’t anything he’d admit to anyone else.  
  
They had kept Magica alive, despite her not swearing to FOWL’s goals. Could she be used to kill the others? He knew she had an ax to grind against her “niece”. From what he recalled of the Shadow War fight, Dewey had also played a pivotal part in that. As for Mrs. Beakley, Magica hardly needed an incitement to kill.  
  
If she could kill the three he had in mind, perhaps they could forego an official swearing in. It had been his decision that had prevented her death, after all. Something told him that their goals could be aligned, given the right circumstances.  
  
Magica went toward the top of the list. Assessing Scrooge’s enemies, Flintheart Glomgold was immediately struck out. He’d had no compunctions about almost drowning a child years ago, but that hadn’t been premeditated. Glomgold’s focal point was Scrooge McDuck and he’d have no interest in offing anyone who was only peripherally related to him.  
  
There were the Beagle Boys, but they were stupid and bumbling. They didn’t have the cold-bloodedness or the intelligence to be murderers. Ma Beagle, possibly, but he had no intention of working with her. They were off the list.  
  
The problem, Steelbeak reflected, was that Scrooge’s enemies only really cared about destroying him. He couldn’t bring someone in from that angle without worrying they’d stick to their original plan, pursue their own agenda, and leave Steelbeak high and dry.  
  
Hiring someone he didn’t know placed him in a precarious situation. Money was no object, but the skill to kill could not always be bought and sold. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Webby hug Dewey and then kiss him on the beak. She was acting like a teenager with her first real crush. Well, second if you count the kitchen boy, which he didn’t think she did.  
  
She was aglow with happiness and love. The two pulled apart only to embrace again and Steelbeak raised his eyebrows. Webby was pushing things, perhaps faster than Dewey would like. He hadn’t thought his daughter was that kind of girl. Perhaps she thought if she anchored him to her, he wouldn’t leave. Steelbeak smirked. He didn’t think Dewey was the kind of kid to up and run, but Webby didn’t trust anyone, not herself and certainly not her boyfriend.  
  
Damn it, if he could access her phone, he might be able to make an impression on her. Either he did that or he ambushed her in Duckburg and took the chance that no one would summon the DPD on him. That seemed unlikely; he couldn’t keep Dewey from blabbing and Webby never went out by herself. Hmm.  
  
Growling to himself, he keyed a few buttons and demanded that his tech crew work harder to procure Webby’s number. If he could speak to her alone, he could also lure her out somewhere. She wouldn’t be kidnapped again, he knew that now, but all he needed to do was plant the seed of doubt in her mind. Suggest, even obliquely, that Dewey might abandon her at the worst possible time. Even if she refused to listen to him, the idea would take root.  
  
The PDA was getting to him and he ignored the camera for the time being. Instead, he scanned the likely list again. Of his own contacts within FOWL, ignoring Black Heron, there were the Fearsome Five. Negaduck was unlikely to go for it, though. Negaduck was only interested in destroying Darkwing. He didn’t understand Steelbeak’s attachment to his daughter.  
  
She was a possession and she was out of his control right now. Negaduck could probably comprehend that or he would if he’d had any attachment to NegaGosalyn. Negaduck didn’t form any attachments to anyone unless he could use them and even then, it was what he got out of the relationship until it ceased being useful to him. He’d never helped conceive an egg. He wouldn’t understand that Webby belonged to Steelbeak. She was his, damn it.  
  
How could he have failed with her? What had he done wrong? Why was she so clingy around that boy? Or, at least, she appeared to be. Watching her for a few minutes at a time didn’t give him a complete picture.  
  
He’d go with Falcon Graves first and see where that led him. He didn’t want to resort to Magica unless all other avenues were exhausted.  
  
Steelbeak frowned as he caught a glimpse of something strange in the upper right-hand corner of his monitor. He leaned forward in his chair and enlarged the window. Webby was pulling away from Dewey and he was the one entreating her to listen to him. Unfortunately, the video was in black and white and lacked audio, so he didn’t know what they were arguing about. Trouble in paradise, perhaps? That could be exploited too.  
  
For a brief second, before conditioning took over, Webby appeared frightened. Steelbeak smirked. She didn’t trust Dewey. Good. She shouldn’t. That he could work with.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Why are you acting so weird?” Dewey said as Webby pulled away from him and scrutinized the street corner camera. They were standing near the bank and she’d stopped talking to stare at the camera. He didn’t understand what the appeal was.  
  
“I’m not acting weird,” she hissed back. “The camera moved when we came onto the street. It zoomed in on us, Dewey.”  
  
“I think I’d know if I was being watched.”  
  
Webby rolled her eyes. “Not if the person on the other side didn’t want you to figure out who it was.”  
  
“And who do you think it is?”  
  
Dewey put his hands on his hips and expected her to tell him something stupid, like that it was Steelbeak. She didn’t; she gnawed the inside of her beak. He didn’t know what was with her lately. Granted, she was a handful almost all of the time, but she’d been very jumpy and mercurial. Out in public, sometimes she’d do PDA, sometimes she wouldn’t, but at home, she was pushy and wanted more than he was ready to give. She wanted to sleep with him and maybe most guys would’ve jumped at the chance, but he wasn’t ready and he didn’t think she was either.  
  
“It could be anyone,” she said softly. She hugged herself and he wrapped his arms about her. It was cold enough that they were wearing winter jackets and he nuzzled her cheek. Maybe they were moving too fast and needed to slow things down.  
  
“Hey, uh, Webby, can we talk?” he asked, frowning.  
  
“About what?” she asked, still giving the camera a dirty look.  
  
“Why are you pressuring me?”  
  
“I’m not pressuring you into anything. What are you talking about?”  
  
“Every time we make out, you keep pushing me…” he said. “I’m not ready and I don’t think you are either.”  
  
He cupped her cheek. “We have plenty of time. Nothing’s going to happen to either of us, Webs. You don’t have to rush things along. We can take it slow and relax, okay? I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you.”  
  
Uncertainty shone in her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but she was frightened of the repercussions. He pulled her closer to him.  
  
“I love you, okay?” he said softly. “And I’m not going to take advantage of you.”  
  
Whatever he said, however, he sensed it wasn’t reaching her. She nodded, but her gaze was far away. He sighed, deciding to table the discussion but bring it back up again at a later date. They had all the time in the world to get to know each other. She was only fifteen and he was almost fifteen. They didn’t need to move headlong into trouble.  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“So...did you wanna see a movie? I heard there’s an action adventure flick playing.”  
  
“It doesn’t have spies in it, does it?” She scowled in distaste. “Kinda burned out on spy drama.”  
  
“I get you,” he said and offered her a small smile. She was so beautiful and she didn’t even know it. He was in awe of her...and a little frightened of her, to tell the truth. Then again, powerful women ran in their families.  
  
“The sequel to last year’s blockbuster hit is out...but you probably didn’t see last year’s movie…” he reflected.  
  
“Which one?” she asked and he frowned, startled.  
  
“I thought you didn’t see a lot of movies. They had movie night at FOWL?” he asked, surprised.  
  
“Sometimes,” she said and shrugged. “I guess it was a way to blow off steam. We watched a lot of superhero movies and the agents threw things at the screen when the heroes won. About the only movies they liked were Despicable Me and Megamind. Then they complained that they were just cartoons and cartoons are for kids.”  
  
“Movie night sounds intense.”  
  
“Everything about FOWL is intense.”  
  
“It’s the new Black Panther movie, if you wanted to see it,” he suggested.  
  
“Burned out on superhero films too.”  
  
She frowned back at him. “We’ll find something.”  
  
He glanced up at the cameras. “Do you really think someone is watching us? Besides an occasional glance by the DPD?”  
  
“Yeah, I do. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch. A fever you can’t sweat out. It’s just there. Lingering. Waiting.”  
  
“That’s...unsettling.”  
  
“Welcome to my world,” she responded and shrugged. “We’ll figure out the movie when we get there.”  
  
She interlinked their hands and smiled weakly at him, but he noticed that her gaze didn’t stray too far from the camera mounted on its pole. He didn’t want there to be anyone spying on them. But it was possible that FOWL could be. As far as he knew, Steelbeak and Black Heron were still behind bars, but maybe FOWL still had a vested interest in Webby.  
  
It made him want to protect her, knowing all the while that she would be the one protecting him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Black Heron would get out on her own. She didn’t need assistance, certainly not from Steelbeak. Fuming, she imagined the satisfaction she’d have once she wrung Webby’s neck. Even now, she sensed that his interest hadn’t faded in the failed agent. This was why she’d never have children. She couldn’t tolerate them. Steelbeak acted like Webby was a part of him, which might explain why he couldn’t let her go. However, that didn’t mean he had to act like a complete idiot over her.  
  
If she was plotting her revenge, however, she’d have to start with Agent 22. She had waited for far too long. It was a tie which one she hated more. Agent 22 was her old nemesis, but Webby had been a thorn in her side for ten long years.  
  
She smiled coldly. She remembered the time she’d drenched Webby in a former SHUSH agent’s blood. Webby had screamed, petrified, and Black Heron had nearly had her. But, no, of course, Steelbeak had to intervene. Black Heron wondered whether Webby still woke up screaming from the feel of the congealed blood on her feathers. She knew that Webby still had nightmares; it wasn’t as much fun when the girl didn’t do much more than whimper in her sleep, though. She’d loved picking on her when she’d sobbed hysterically.  
  
A police officer stopped in front of her cell and Black Heron looked up. Though she had the bail option, the bail was so outrageously expensive she couldn’t imagine anyone coming up with the money for it. Scrooge McDuck judged her a flight risk and he was right. Or, rather, he would be if her business wasn’t in Duckburg.  
  
Perhaps the officer was bringing her dinner. No, wait, that was later in the day. Puzzled, Black Heron cocked her head at him. He was a slim grey furred dog with a white ruff about his neck. To her surprise, he was carrying the keys. Would he spring her? No, that was ridiculous.  
  
Behind the officer walked a sight for sore eyes and Black Heron grinned.  
  
“Fancy meeting you here,” Heron said sweetly. “One good turn deserves another.”  
  
“Don’t take it personally,” the woman scoffed. “This isn’t personal. I want revenge against Wendy and Lena as badly as you do. This is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.”  
  
“I’ll take it,” Black Heron said, smirking. The police officer unlocked the cell door and Black Heron walked, if not a free woman, then at least one unencumbered for the time being. Magica de Spell grinned back at her and her eyes were alight with malice. Magica was her kind of woman.  
  


* * *

  
  
“What do you mean, they’re both gone?” Scrooge McDuck snapped, glaring at the landline and considering throttling the person on the other end. “I cannae imagine who would pay Black Heron’s bail and as for Steelbeak, I thought you had better security than that! You let him walk out without even saying anything? Should I replace the lot of you?”  
  
He fumed, listening to the other person’s excuses. Black Heron had made bail courtesy of Magica de Spell, who hadn’t done anything criminal in the last few years and therefore had nothing to jail her for. As for Steelbeak, FOWL had of course busted him out. That meant that both were at large and he didn’t know which one was more troubling. Steelbeak would want Webbigail back. Black Heron would want her and Agent 22 dead, preferably by her hand.  
  
“I dinnae care how you find them, just do something!” he snapped. He slammed the phone down on its cradle and his anger evaporated, transformed into apprehension. He was not looking forward to the conversation that he was about to have with Webbigail and Mrs. Beakley. Neither of them would be pleased...and Webbigail wasn’t stable to begin with. He suppressed a sigh.  
  
Was Webby home yet? She’d gone out with Dewey, as he recalled. Ah, well, maybe the lass would be in a better mood once she returned. He found Mrs. Beakley in Webby’s room and she quickly stopped what she was doing, which was sniffing Webby’s pillow.  
  
“You know, she’s still here,” he said. “You dinnae need to be sniffing her stuff, Beakley.”  
  
“Old habit,” Mrs. Beakley said primly. Her hand clutched Webby’s pillowcase.  
  
“You’re afraid you’re going to lose her again, aren’t you?” he said shrewdly.  
  
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” she countered. “I had her for five years and then lost her for ten. She’s back now, but I know FOWL is sniffing around, even if I can’t prove it.”  
  
“Er...I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” he said and her gaze sharpened.  
  
“What?” she demanded. “Out with it.”  
  
“Black Heron and Steelbeak are unaccounted for,” he said and then winced when her gaze narrowed and she rounded on him. “You cannae blame me! I didnae have anything to do with this! The DPD just called me! Magica de Spell paid Heron’s bail and FOWL broke Steelbeak out.  
  
“So you’re telling me that my two worst enemies, the ones who would stop at nothing to destroy my family and yours, including one who personally wants to murder my granddaughter, are missing?” she snarled.  
  
“Well...they’re not missing, per se,” he said. “We just don’t know where they are.”  
  
That was a weak response, but her fury was overwhelming and he wanted to cower underneath the furniture.  
  
Mrs. Beakley snarled again. “The two criminals who tortured my granddaughter for ten years are at large and you don’t find this a cause for alarm?!”  
  
“Er, well, I dinnae say that…” he said weakly. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Bentina.”  
  
“Just how incompetent is the DPD?” she growled. “They handed one criminal off to another and they let the head of FOWL escape? I’d expect this level of incompetence from St. Canard’s police, but not Duckburg’s!”  
  
“We’ll find them,” he soothed and she growled, picking him up by his lapels.  
  
“You had better,” she snapped. “Before they find us. Or, more importantly, before they find Webbigail. I want security tightened around here and I want Webby--”  
  
“You dinnae think the girl can defend herself?” Scrooge objected. “She’s been doing so for ten years now, Bentina.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley snapped her beak at him and he knew that this was the wrong thing to say. The jab must’ve hit her pretty deeply, because her eyes flashed and he glimpsed hurt. She took Webby’s kidnapping and subsequent abuse on herself.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault, what happened,” he said in a soft voice. “You know that.”  
  
“I should have been more diligent,” she said. “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her, even for a second. I know she can defend herself. I just...I don’t want it to come to a situation where she has to because Black Heron wants to kill her.”  
  
She sighed, putting him back down on the floor. “I can’t lose her again. I just can’t.”  
  
“I know,” he said and reached up to pat her on the shoulder. “Take it easy, 22. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”  
  
“After a few months, the smell faded,” Mrs. Beakley said, the subject change taking him by surprise until he realized she was still gripping Webby’s pillowcase. “I forgot her voice. I forgot what she smelled like. I forgot so much...and I had nothing to remember her by. Nothing but her useless toys and clothes, nothing of her. No photographs, no video recordings.  
  
“I lost her mother. Then I lost her.”  
  
This was uncharacteristically open for Bentina and he frowned, nodding.  
  
“At least I had photos of Della,” he said softly. “But I dinnae have any recordings of her. And after Donald stopped talking to me, I barely had anything left.”  
  
“She’s my granddaughter,” Bentina whispered. “She’s all the family I have left and I’m so damn tired of Steelbeak’s machinations.”  
  
Her eyes flashed. “If he or Black Heron lay a hand on my granddaughter again, it’ll be the last time they do so. I can’t repay them for all they did to her, but I swear I will never let them harm her again.  
  
“I’m not naive. I know they physically abused her. I can see it in how she flinches and how little she expects touch, except for pain being inflicted. I can see it in her reticence to trust anyone. They broke her...and I will break them. That is a promise.”  
  
With an effort, she unclenched the pillowcase and put it back on the bed. She was shaking.  
  
“Would you like a cuppa?” he asked. He felt like that was more her line than his, but the English did love their tea. And it did remarkable things for the nerves.  
  
“Yes,” she said. “But first I’m going to check on Webby.”  
  
“Don’t tell her what happened over the phone,” he cautioned. “Wait until she gets home, at least.”  
  
She nodded. “By then, I should have a plan in motion.”  
  
Her eyes flashed again. “I dare say Black Heron and Steelbeak will regret coming near me or my granddaughter ever again. Or even considering it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steelbeak makes an ultimatum, which is not well received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have an AU of this idea, where the boys find Webby when she's the same age as she is in the show. Should I post it? I've already written three chapters. -_-

For once, Steelbeak wished he weren’t so recognizable. It would have been easier to slip into Duckburg without his characteristic beak. Moreover, his techs were having no luck prying Webby’s phone number out from SHUSH. He might have to resort to mail. Webby had no email address, so far as he knew, and he couldn’t be certain that a letter would reach her. However, it was his best bet. He wouldn’t sign it--he wasn’t stupid, even if he admitted to desperation.  
  
He didn’t want to lose her. That would mean admitting he’d done something wrong in raising her and also, he had grown accustomed to her presence over the years. Her misery had worn at him and he claimed ownership of it. If he were ever going to allow her happiness, he wanted it to be on his terms or not at all.  
  
Bored, he scrolled through the Duckburg cameras, but they had gone dark. Someone was blocking his access and he snarled, jumping to his feet. What was the big idea? Had SHUSH gotten to him here? If they could track him...well, he hadn’t taken pains to conceal his IP address, that was true. He hadn’t thought they could penetrate this far into St. Canard.  
  
Agent 22’s face filled his computer screen and he growled. Behind her, Darkwing Duck and Quiverwing looked smug. Quiverwing was supposedly good with hacking courtesy of her best friend. He’d forgotten that somehow. He was forgetting a lot of things lately; he was slipping. That was dangerous for someone in his profession.  
  
It was part of why he needed a successor. And Webby would have fit the bill--she still could if he destroyed what she held dear. Then she’d have no one to turn to but him.  
  
“You abused my granddaughter,” Agent 22 snapped and her eyes simmered in fury.  
  
“Black Heron had her training,” Steelbeak said. “I kept her from killing her. What more do you want?”  
  
“I want you to stay away from Webbigail.”  
  
“You may want that, but Webbigail is my daughter. She belongs to me. She had no right to defect.”  
  
“She has free will. And being around her real family makes her happy, which is something that you’ve never done for her.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “She has no business with SHUSH. If you were such a good guardian, you wouldn’t have lost her to me.”  
  
“She’s not a prize to be won. She’s a person, which is something you seem to forget.”  
  
“She’s my daughter,” he countered, growling. “She’s half of me, which makes her mine to do with as I please. But if you want to play this game, you’re gonna get burned, 22.”  
  
“How do you intend to win her back to your side? Even if you didn’t personally abuse her, you allowed her to be physically abused. She thought I was manipulating her when I told her I loved her. She hasn’t known love or affection in ten years and now she has it. Why should she choose you?”  
  
Her tone was haughty and it grated, slipping under Steelbeak’s skin. He growled at her and she glowered back. Darkwing Duck was being remarkably quiet, although his gaze flicked to his daughter while 22 spoke. There was possessiveness in Darkwing’s gaze, but also compassion and love. Steelbeak sneered. Compassion and love would get you killed.  
  
“I’m what she knows,” he said after a pause. “FOWL is familiar to her. The devil you know. She still has loyalty toward us or else why would she be withholding information?”  
  
“She’s a good person. She isn’t one of yours.”  
  
“We’ll see how long that lasts.”  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.  
  
“Now, what would be the fun in telling you? I’ll just let you, Dewey Duck, and Lena de Spell find out for yourselves. Oh, no, I’ve said too much.”  
  
He grinned cruelly and her eyes narrowed. The three people who mattered most to Webbigail. Without them, well...she could figure it out.  
  
“We know you’re somewhere in St. Canard,” Quiverwing snapped. “You can’t hide out forever, Steelbeak.”  
  
“I didn’t plan to. I have to make my triumphant return sooner or later, don’t I?”  
  
He shut down the laptop before they had a chance to retort. He was trembling in rage. While he had hardly tipped his hand, he didn’t appreciate people standing in the way of what he wanted. Or who he wanted. With those three eliminated, the path would be clear. Scrooge McDuck and Dewey’s brothers would hardly want to protect Webbigail after he’d attacked Mrs. Beakley, Dewey, and Lena. They’d probably step aside and let him seize his prize.  
  


* * *

  
  
Mrs. Beakley quivered in outrage too. Webby was just learning to trust people again after what she’d endured. Her father was threatening to take that away from her, all because he thought he had some sort of “right” to her for bringing her into the world. Dewey was vulnerable, although she and Lena could defend themselves. And Dewey and Lena were more important to Webby than her grandmother--Webby had never had companions her own age before. While Lena was slightly older and Dewey slightly younger, that didn’t mean much. Mrs. Beakley knew that Webby was falling for Dewey if she hadn’t already. She was at a critical moment and if Steelbeak snapped that right now, Webby might never trust again.  
  
She’d be broken, irrevocably, and Steelbeak’s plaything. With an effort, she wrenched her gaze away from the computer screen and looked over at her companions. Darkwing Duck was, to her surprise, equally furious. Then again, he had a daughter Webby’s age.  
  
“He won’t get away with it,” Darkwing assured her. His voice was low and tense. “He won’t touch a feather on Webby’s head.”  
  
“We’ll track him down,” Quiverwing added.  
  
“You mean, you’ll track him down and then you’ll let me apprehend him,” he corrected. “You’re not going near him, Gosalyn.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Dad, I can protect myself.”  
  
“Can you?” he countered. “Because from where I’m sitting, you look awfully vulnerable to me.”  
  
“You’re looking at me like I’m a kid. I’m not a kid anymore.”  
  
“You still don’t clean your room, I saw you and Honker on an old children’s website yesterday, and when was the last time you did your chores?”  
  
“Well, sure, if you’re going to go by circumstantial evidence,” she replied and he rolled his eyes.  
  
Mrs. Beakley ignored them. Try as she might, she couldn’t rid herself of the mental image of Webby alone, desperate and distraught, grasping at straws while Steelbeak manipulated her yet again. Her stomach clenched and she thought she might be sick. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to tell Webby or keep it to herself. Then again, if Steelbeak was out there, then she deserved to know. However...she’d finally started to relax somewhat. This risked upsetting her and the fragile balance they had acquired.  
  
Leaving the quarreling family alone, she walked out of McDuck Manor’s security sector and went looking for Webby. Her granddaughter was in her room, which wasn’t surprising. What was, however, was that she hadn’t locked her door. Of course, she’d shut it, but Mrs. Beakley was going to take the lack of lock as a sign of blossoming trust. What she had to tell her would probably destroy that fragile flower.  
  
She knocked and pushed the door open. Webby was reading The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, despite Scrooge decrying it.  
  
“Hi, Granny,” Webby said, subdued. She put the book aside; she was lying on her stomach on her bed. There was a somber air about her that unsettled her and made her even more hesitant to tell her what was going on.  
  
There was nothing to do but come out with it, however. Concealing it wouldn’t help anything.  
  
“Hello, Webbigail,” she said and sat beside her. Every time she was near him, she had the desire to touch her. She brushed her hand over Webby’s hair.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked and Mrs. Beakley frowned.  
  
“What makes you think something is wrong?” she asked.  
  
“I learned how to read people very quickly in FOWL,” she said. “Something’s up.”  
  
She sighed, deciding it was best not to bandy words. “Steelbeak and Black Heron are on the loose. Black Heron is presumably in Duckburg and we know that Steelbeak is in St. Canard, but not where.”  
  
“I told Dewey that the camera was following us,” she said, balling her fist. “I knew it. It was probably Steelbeak.”  
  
At seeing her perplexed expression, Webby elaborated. “I had the feeling that the town’s cameras were keyed into us specifically and I was right.”  
  
“He’s not coming here,” Mrs. Beakley said, scowling. “He won’t lay a hand on you ever again.”  
  
Webby’s gaze turned inward. “I should have known this would happen. Steelbeak doesn’t forgive or forget. And Black Heron…”  
  
She balled her fists. There was something more, something she wasn’t saying, and Mrs. Beakley wasn’t sure whether it was because Webby distrusted her or because she was inclined to keep things to herself due to her upbringing. She squeezed her hand.  
  
“You’re not going back to FOWL. SHUSH has its agents already primed for this.”  
  
Webby said nothing for a minute. Then she jumped to her feet and started packing. Alarmed, her grandmother stood in her way.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
“I knew my being here would put other people in jeopardy.” She shook her head. “This was a mistake.”  
  
“He’s going to go after the others regardless of where you are,” she pointed out. “And I forbid you to leave this manor. You are not abandoning us even if you think you’re ‘saving’ us by stepping out of the picture.”  
  
Honestly, why was everything fight or flight with her? Webby was quivering.  
  
“We can protect ourselves. And we can protect Dewey. Your running away would change nothing and in fact would leave us vulnerable,” she said and advanced on her. “We need all the defense we can get. You and I both know that Dewey can hardly defend himself.”  
  
For a split second, she glimpsed fear in her granddaughter’s face. She grabbed her hands.  
  
“Listen to me. You accomplish nothing by leaving. This is your home now. Do not let him drive you out,” she said. Perhaps she might have tried to manipulate her using guilt, but Webby had seen far too much manipulation in her life. She deserved straight talk, for what it was worth.  
  
She squeezed her shoulders. “You won’t lose us. I promise.”  
  
Webby looked away and Mrs. Beakley could tell that she didn’t believe her. Sighing, she released her. A mask had fallen over her granddaughter’s features and she could no longer tell what was running through her mind. Perhaps she would have been able to regardless if they hadn’t been separated for ten years.  
  
“Webby…” she pressed.  
  
Webby’s beak twitched. “So this was the cost of happiness.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley hugged her fiercely. “You are here to stay. Do not ever think that we regret having you or that you aren’t wanted. And if it means that we have to deal with FOWL again, so be it. Black Heron never intended to let me off the hook anyway.  
  
“I love you,” she said. “Don’t you forget it. I love you and I will do whatever it takes to keep you here. Do you understand?”  
  
Webby nodded, although she wasn’t sure whether she agreed or she was just doing so because she wanted to end the conversation. Mrs. Beakley grimaced. She couldn’t expect miracles, but this level of stubbornness was almost unprecedented. Almost, because Wren had had the same streak.  
  
“Yes,” she said; her grandmother had been looking for something, after all. Mrs. Beakley was reluctant to release her; she worried that Webby might turn tail and flee regardless.  
  
“So don’t do anything rash,” she pleaded. “Your place is here, at McDuck Manor.”  
  
Webby’s gaze cut to the floor and Mrs. Beakley sighed. She could almost hear her refuting it in her mind. What would it take to get through to her? She cupped Webby’s cheek in her hand.  
  
“Please,” she pleaded.  
  
Webby drew a breath to brace herself and then nodded, though her gaze seemed elsewhere. Mrs. Beakley swallowed hard. That might be the best reassurance she was going to get at this point, so she should probably take it.  
  
She hugged her again and Webby hugged her back.  
  
“Maybe…” Webby started and Mrs. Beakley frowned, holding her at arm’s length so she should see her face.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Maybe we should ensure that Black Heron never comes back.”  
  
What was she...oh. Though Webby’s lower beak quivered, she looked determined. Mr. McDuck wouldn’t like the idea, but they didn’t necessarily have to run it by him, either. After a moment, she nodded and Webby, looking profoundly relieved, nodded back. She wasn’t promising anything, although, after what Black Heron had subjected Webby to...it wasn’t out of the picture, either.  
  
As long as Black Heron was alive, she would want to torment herself and Webby. Mrs. Beakley wasn’t certain whether Heron’s loathing of Webby was driven entirely by her hatred of Agent 22 or she had a separate hatred festering for her granddaughter. In truth, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t be allowed to be at liberty and if an idiotic judge kept posting her bail, she’d be out on the streets and stalking Webby.  
  
“We’ll do what we can,” she promised.  
  
“She’s hated me ever since she met me,” Webby confessed. “Being Steelbeak’s daughter has more painted a giant target on my back than given me an advantage.”  
  
“You’re not just his daughter. You’re my granddaughter,” she said fiercely. “That counts for a lot.”  
  
Webby smiled, though worry lingered in her gaze. Perhaps she ought to feel encouraged; a few minutes ago, Webby wasn’t revealing even that much.  
  
“We should talk to Dewey,” she said and grimaced. “And Lena too.”  
  
“I’ll leave that to you,” Mrs. Beakley said. She wasn’t in the mood to see more teenage PDA, not if she could help it.  
  
Webby leaned in and hugged her again. Color suffused her cheeks.  
  
“I...I love you too,” she whispered quietly. Mrs. Beakley beamed at her and Webby colored further. She hadn’t thought she’d hear that so soon. Maybe Webby didn’t necessarily feel it entirely, but she took that as a good sign too. (Of course, she hadn’t been privy to Webby saying that to Dewey first).  
  
Mrs. Beakley kissed her on the head and smoothed her hair back.  
  
“We can strategize once we have everyone on board,” Mrs. Beakley assured her. Then, reluctantly, she released her. Every time she did, she felt a crushing sense of loss which she quickly stifled. It was irrational. Webby wasn’t going anywhere. Old fears, however, died hard.

* * *

  
Dewey was hanging out with his brothers in the living room. She watched for a minute. With his brothers, he was at ease, lounging around upside down with Louie on his other side eating popcorn and drinking Pep. Huey took up the couch end on the right and was complaining about the historical inaccuracy of the movie they were watching. Webby was tempted not to say anything and let Dewey enjoy this moment. She knew Huey and Louie were uneasy around her and she hadn’t done much to ameliorate that. This news wouldn’t improve their opinion of her.  
  
“Dewey?” she said and the three boys startled, Dewey falling onto the floor, Louie spilling popcorn and Pep, and Huey dropping the JWG.  
  
“Can’t you knock next time?” Louie complained.  
  
“You would’ve been startled no matter what I did,” she pointed out, folding her arms across her chest. “I need to talk to Dewey.”  
  
“Whatever you have to tell him, you can tell all of us,” Huey said.  
  
“Unless it’s some gross relationship stuff,” Louie added.  
  
She sighed. “Black Heron and Steelbeak escaped. Magica de Spell paid Heron’s bail and Steelbeak is somewhere in St. Canard. It’s a sure bet they’re gunning for me.”  
  
The triplets turned and stared at her. Temporarily, Ottoman Empire was forgotten, as were the JWG and spilled popcorn. Uncomfortable with that level of scrutiny, she forced herself to remain still. Her grandmother was right. Why was her first instinct always to run?  
  
“That means they’re coming for all of us,” Huey said softly. “Especially if Magica’s involved. She hasn’t forgiven us for spoiling her plot to keep Uncle Scrooge trapped in his number one dime.”  
  
Her throat was tight. “Dewey and Lena are in particular danger. Because of me.”  
  
She allowed her mask to slip so that the others could glimpse her fear and anguish. To her surprise, Louie looked sympathetic, as did Huey.  
  
“What can we do?” Huey asked.  
  
“Wait, what?” she said. “Aren’t you angry at me? It’s my fault that Heron and Steelbeak are coming after your brother.”  
  
“If Magica’s involved, she would’ve come after us anyway,” Louie pointed out. “And you’re supposed to be part of the family, aren’t you? Black Heron was your grandmother’s enemy before she was yours. And Steelbeak was your mother’s.”  
  
She cocked her head at him and wondered how much her grandmother had told them. Her throat was still tight and she cleared it to attempt to speak more normally.  
  
“You want to help me?” she asked and hated how her voice quivered slightly.  
  
“We need to form a unified defense, don’t we?” Huey said. “And the only way to do that is to work together.”  
  
To her consternation, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She’d never faced Black Heron and Steelbeak with support before coming to Duckburg. She swiped at her eyes (crying was weakness) and vaulted over the sofa. Huey and Louie backed up, hands in a defensive position, but she only hugged them.  
  
“Hey,” Dewey said softly, hugging her back. “You’re not alone anymore, Webs.”  
  
“You really weren’t cut out to be a FOWL agent, were you?” Louie asked and Webby hit him in the arm. It wasn’t as hard as her previous blows, but it would leave a bruise.  
  
“We have your back,” Huey said. “Tell us what we need to do.”  
  
“I still need to talk to Lena,” she said, slightly embarrassed. “Do you know where she is?”  
  
“Probably at the old abandoned theatre,” Louie said. “She goes there sometimes when she wants to be left alone.”  
  
His brothers stared at him and Louie shrugged.  
  
“What? I know her better than you do,” he explained. “It’s not like she confides in me or anything. We’re similar, that’s all.”  
  
“You’ll have to show me where that is,” she pointed out. “I don’t know my way around town.”  
  
Dewey smiled and stroked her hair. She leaned into him and inhaled his scent. Slightly sweaty, with a mixture of wood, and...was that cologne? She laughed.  
  
“What?” Dewey asked, self-conscious.  
  
“You put on cologne,” she said. “You didn’t wear that when we first met.”  
  
Dewey flushed. “I wanted to smell good. Is that a crime?”  
  
“Don’t get him started,” Louie said. “When we had a problem with harpies, they attacked his face because that was what he cherished the most. He’s vainglorious.”  
  
“That was five years ago!” Dewey protested.  
  
“And yet, I still remember it like it was yesterday…” Louie said, smirking.  
  
“Let’s go,” Huey said and rolled his eyes too. “They’ll argue forever if you let them.”  
  
Dewey huffed, affronted, and took Webby’s hand. He lifted it to his beak and kissed it. She flushed, forgetting why she’d been teasing him. Pulling him closer, she kissed him on the beak. She couldn’t get over it. He was hers. He made her happy and she got to be with him without strings attached. It was nothing short of a miracle.  
  
When they pulled back, her eyes shone and Louie groaned.  
  
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he groused. “PDA.”  
  
“Jealous?” Dewey said, smug.  
  
“No,” Louie said. “Just annoyed.”  
  
“You’re jealous,” Dewey retorted.  
  
“Let’s just go,” Huey said, groaning. “Come on, Webby.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steelbeak freaks Webby out further and Lena decides to tease Dewey about his relationship with Webby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was toying with Deweblena in this fic, hence the kiss that happens about halfway through the chapter. It didn't end up happening, not because I see Webby as straight (because I don't), but because I just felt like she has her hands full with Dewey and vice versa. She doesn't need more complications.

They found Lena beneath the theatre, as Louie had promised. The teenager was curled up with her headphones on loudly enough that Webby could hear My Chemical Romance blaring. She didn’t notice their approach, despite their not being stealthy in the slightest. Louie frowned down at her and she flicked her gaze upward. With a sigh and an eye roll, she paused the song on her phone and pulled down her headphones around her neck.  
  
“Why are you all here?” she asked. She frowned. “And why do you all look so dour?”  
  
“Steelbeak and Black Heron got out,” Huey blurted and the other three gave him dirty looks. “What? I’m freaking out, all right?”  
  
Lena’s gaze flicked to Webby and stayed there. “Are you okay?”  
  
Webby forced a smile. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. Steelbeak wasn’t out for revenge before, but Black Heron’s always been against me. So it’s another enemy. So what.”  
  
Lena straightened up. Her gaze told Webby that she wasn’t buying it. Webby allowed her features to become a mask, one that she had worn many times in FOWL’s HQ. It had dissuaded all but the most persistent of agents. Dewey was side-eying her and she glared back. She could handle herself. She wasn’t fragile or made of spun-glass. They were overreacting.  
  
“Uh huh,” Lena said. “I don’t know you think you’re convincing, pink, but it’s not me.”  
  
“It’s okay to be scared,” Dewey said and Webby’s temper flared. She didn’t like being talked down to and besides, it was never all right to capitulate to fear. Fear immobilized. Fear disabled. Fear weakened. Fear was not permissible under any stretch of the imagination.  
  
“No, it isn’t,” she said, keeping her tone civil, though it was a stretch. “Fear will get you killed.”  
  
“Can we talk in private?” Lena said and gave Dewey, in particular, the stink eye. “For five minutes?”  
  
“Sure, whatever,” Louie said and his eyes raked Webby too. “You can be scared without being killed for it, you know, Webby.”  
  
“Not in my world, you can’t,” she said and watched as the triplets climbed back up the ladder toward the theatre’s stage. When the door was back in place, Lena turned to her. She had her arms folded across her chest and Webby’s gaze narrowed.  
  
“I know that look. You’re running on terror.”  
  
“I’m fine,” she growled back. She felt oddly vulnerable having this conversation with Lena; the triplets were out of eavesdropping range and she almost felt like they’d been a buffer. To keep her focus off Lena, she glanced around her room. Posters of emo bands covered the walls and there was a raven’s feather on a nightstand. She raised her eyebrows at it, but Lena offered no explanation. Webby hadn’t anticipated one. They didn’t know each other well enough to share confidences.  
  
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m not your enemy. Granted, we don’t know each other well enough to be friends, but I’m not your enemy, Webby.”  
  
“I’m here because Steelbeak and Black Heron are going to be coming for you because of me,” Webby said flatly. “I put you and Dewey at risk and I’m sorry.”  
  
“I don’t care about that. I’ve been at risk ever since Aunt Magica glommed onto me since I was born. I wonder why FOWL didn’t kill her…”  
  
“She’s probably playing nice with them to get what she wants.”  
  
Webby felt awkward in the room and knew they were skating around the real issue, the real reason Lena had wanted them isolated in the first place. She wasn’t keen to start opening up, however. In the past, she’d done so because her emotions had been running high, she’d been on very little sleep, and stress had dragged it out of her. Now that she had enough sleep and guilt swamped her, she didn’t intend to reveal as much. Or anything at all, if she could help it.  
  
“I was terrified the entire time Aunt Magica manipulated me into stealing Scrooge’s number one dime,” Lena confessed. “Terrified to get too close to the boys. Terrified I’d screw up and Magica would make things so much worse.”  
  
Lena was telling her this to solicit sympathy or convince Webby to admit something.  
  
“I’m not scared,” she said flatly. “I’m used to this.”  
  
“You never really get used to it.”  
  
Webby’s gaze flitted to Lena’s face. What had Lena endured in the past? She knew so little about her. And Lena was being much more forthcoming than Webby was. Did she owe her anything? An explanation, at least? She felt guiltier, suppressing her emotions and trying not to worry anyone. They had enough on their plates without her emotions stirring the pot.  
  
“Maybe not.”  
  
“And the boys are stronger than you give them credit for. They’ve been in a lot of life or death situations. You don’t have to worry about coddling Dewey. He’s usually the first one running headlong into danger.”  
  
Lena snorted.  
  
“He almost died taking a goddamn selfie.”  
  
Lena snickered. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”  
  
“It’s bad enough that I’m in danger. I don’t want anyone else to be.”  
  
“You can’t control what other people say or do. You should know that by now.”  
  
Lena tossed her hair and her pink-streaked locks fell across her face. This brought a small smile to Webby’s beak and she wasn’t sure why. It was such a casual gesture, like something that ought to have been familiar to her from long experience.  
  
Webby balled her fists. “If I had known that my defecting would’ve caused all this--”  
  
“You would’ve, what? Stayed with FOWL? You’re not the bad guy for wanting affection and love. I’ve been down that path before. It sucks big time.”  
  
From Dewey, she might have considered this patronizing. Somehow, from Lena, it wasn’t. Lena seemed to be sincere, which made it all the worse. Webby dropped her gaze.  
  
“You’ve spent your entire life thinking you’re wrong because you wanted normalcy. You’re not. Steelbeak and Black Heron are probably the voices in your head berating you,” she said and then snorted. “Aunt Magica’s the one in mine.  
  
“If this is the price to have you with us, then so be it,” Lena said and then shrugged. “It’s not like danger is completely foreign to us.”  
  
Webby was seized by a strong desire to hug her. She flung herself at Lena and Lena hugged her back. Lena stroked her hair and Webby swallowed back a lump in her throat. She straightened up, but still held onto her. Hugs had been non-existent at FOWL and while she normally didn’t like being touched, initiating it or having it from a select group of people was a different story altogether.  
  
“You’re all right, pink,” Lena said and reluctantly, Webby disentangled herself from her. She heard rustling above them on the trapdoor and Lena smirked.  
  
“Think they’re getting antsy enough or should we make them wait a while longer?” Lena teased. “You know, if you want, we could make them think we’re up to more than just talking down here.”  
  
A mischievous grin spread across Lena’s beak and Webby found herself responding in kind.  
  
“What did you have in mind?”  
  
Lena threw her arms about Webby’s neck and drew her closer again. Webby’s heart skipped beats. Lena gave her a quick peck on the beak with a promise of more that made Webby’s heart skitter around like mad. Technically, Webby had only ever kissed Dewey and she only had Dewey as a comparison. She knew Lena was just messing around--wasn’t she? She was hoping that the boys would open the trapdoor and find them locked in an embrace. That was it.  
  
Lena kissed her again and, with trepidation, Webby applied just a hint of pressure back, reciprocating. It felt weird. Not bad weird, mind you, just...strange. Not like how she felt with Dewey at all. Like if the adrenaline hadn’t been coursing through her body, she might have had a different opinion of the situation.  
  
“What are you guys…” Dewey trailed off. “Why are you kissing my girlfriend?”  
  
“I was wondering when you’d notice,” Lena said, smirking at the open trapdoor.  
  
Louie snorted. “It’s way too easy to mess with you, Dewey.”  
  
Webby took a step back and pressed a hand to her chest. Why was her heart racing like this? She glanced up at Dewey, who jumped down and ignored the ladder. He landed on his feet like a cat and she smiled at him. Dewey was the one who meant so much to her, but Lena...she couldn’t figure her out. She was an enigma.  
  
“Isn’t it?” Lena said, snorting. “You look like I ran you over, Webby.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Webby blurted and Lena snorted again.  
  
“You’re just as convincing as you were the last time, which means not.”  
  
“You weren’t kissing this whole time, were you?” Dewey asked, jealousy creeping into his voice. No one had ever been jealous over her before. Webby felt oddly thrilled with it, although she pitied Dewey.  
  
“No--” Webby started.  
  
“Why?” Lena interjected. “FOMO?”  
  
“No, I just...Webby’s my girlfriend, not yours,” Dewey said and his gaze was uncertain. “Right, Webby?”  
  
“Yes,” she said, but she couldn’t resist a smirk in Lena’s direction. The older girl smirked back. Maybe Louie had a point about messing with Dewey. It was innocent. This was nothing like the malicious games that FOWL used to play.  
  
Dewey slung an arm about Webby’s waist in a proprietary way. Lena responded by leaning against Webby’s shoulder. Dewey huffed at her.  
  
“You’re taking this too far,” he complained.  
  
“Or not far enough,” Lena countered.  
  
“What’s...what’s going on here?” Huey asked, at a loss. He descended the ladder along with Louie. Louie was smirking; he recognized a con game when he saw one. Or maybe he was just amused at Dewey’s agitation.  
  
“Lena’s screwing around,” Dewey said and glowered at Lena. “It’s not funny.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. The look on your face was funny as hell,” Lena countered.  
  
“It’s not like she liked being kissed by you, either,” Dewey continued.  
  
“Don’t speak for me,” Webby said, irritated.  
  
“You did?” Dewey was aghast.  
  
“I’m not saying that. I mean in general, don’t,” Webby said.  
  
“You have a lot to learn about girls, Dewford,” Lena said, shaking her head ruefully. “Poor, poor Dewford Deuteronomy Duck.”  
  
Webby burst out laughing. “That’s your full name?”  
  
“Not as bad as Llewellyn,” Dewey huffed.  
  
“Hey, man, that’s a low blow,” Louie said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”  
  
“You’re encouraging her,” he countered.  
  
“All right, we’ve gotten way off topic,” Huey said, desperately trying to corral everyone in before the situation fell apart.  
  
“Yes, let’s talk about how we’re going to take on FOWL,” Dewey said, glaring daggers at Lena. Lena appeared unaffected.  
  
“We should head back to the manor,” Huey said. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Yes, let’s,” Dewey said, still glowering at Lena. Lena smirked back.  
  
“This is going to be fun,” Huey muttered.  
  
“You have no idea,” Louie said, smirking too.  
  


* * *

  
“Sir, we might have something,” one of Steelbeak’s agents said, prodding FOWL’s head agent out of a contemplative trance. He’d been considering the best way to approach Webbigail and was slouching in his chair. At the address, he bolted upright and glancing at the Egghead.  
  
“Yes?” he said.  
  
The Egghead handed him a slip of paper with Webby’s phone number on it. Grinning, he took it.  
  
“My eternal gratitude,” he said. Then, with a hand gesture, he indicated that the man should shoo and leave him alone. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed the number. It required disabling certain features on his phone, namely his GPS so that SHUSH couldn’t track him the same way.  
  
The phone rang several times and then, just as he thought it might go to voicemail, she answered.  
  
“Hello?” she said. “How did you get this number?”  
  
“I have my ways, Webbigail,” he said and Webby yelped. He heard muffled voices, probably asking if she was okay. In his mind’s eye, he saw her waving them off and then shuddering, retreating to a corner of the room to converse with him in private. Of course, she could opt to put him on speaker too, but he didn’t think she would. She wouldn’t risk having others overhear.  
  
“You’re not thrilled to hear from your dear old dad, are you?”  
  
“Don’t ever call me again,” she hissed. “I’ll get Mr. McDuck to change the number.”  
  
“Think he’d be inclined to do you a favor after I’m finished with his grand-nephew?”  
  
He could feel her freeze through the line.  
  
“You’re not getting your hands on Dewey. Or anyone else. You’re not getting near us.”  
  
“Did you really think you could get away with betraying your own flesh and blood? Or that I’d forgive you for it? I’m in this for the long haul.”  
  
He snorted, laying the seeds. “But are your new friends? Is your grandmother? How do you know they’re really loyal to you? They barely know you.”  
  
The next voice on the line was one of the triplets. He assumed it was Dewey if he recalled correctly from the five voicemails he’d left Webby. This time, rather than desperation, the teenager spoke with hostility and defensiveness. Did he really think he was going to protect Webby? Did he think he stood a chance against FOWL?  
  
“Leave her alone,” Dewey snapped. “You’re not getting your hands on her again.”  
  
“Oh, she’s not the one who should be worrying. It’s you, pal. ‘Cuz once I’m done with you, you’re gonna be duck l’orange.”  
  
“Once Mrs. Beakley’s done with you, you’ll be fried chicken,” Dewey countered and Steelbeak snorted.  
  
“You need to work on your insults, kid. I’m shaking in my boots. Really. But put Webby back on the line. I need to talk to her.”  
  
“No. You’re not talking to her ever again.”  
  
“Don’t test my patience, duckling. I’ve been playing this game a lot longer than you have.”  
  
“I’m hanging up.”  
  
“Just tell Webby that sooner or later, it’ll come down to who really cares about her...and who’s left after I’m done.”  
  
The line went dead and he snorted. Dewey probably wouldn’t pass that tidbit along, but he’d planted the seed. That was the important part. All he needed was for Webby to doubt the others’ intentions. Everything else would come in time.  
  
Pleased with himself, he attempted to check the Duckburg cameras again. As before, they were down. He would have preferred having an eye on his daughter and knowing what she was up to. Of course, she and Agent 22 were now constructing a plan to best him. All he needed were some well-placed assassins and he’d be free of Agent 22--he could handle the boy by himself. Lena would probably require Magica’s interference. He’d heard that she was lurking in Duckburg and working with Black Heron. Feh, he didn’t want to join in on that, but he might have no choice.  
  
Then again, Magica and Heron would be aiming to kill, not disable. It put him in an awkward position. He didn’t want Webbigail dead, far from it, but he needed her to be punished for her insurrection. He might end up as a buffer again, at least until he could bring Webby to heel. Killing that servant had been effective, but it seemed like she was tentatively learning to trust again. That wouldn’t do.  
  


* * *

  
  
“What did Steelbeak say to you before you let go of the phone?” Dewey asked. Webby was being tight-lipped as they walked back to the manor. He’d tried to take her hand and she’d pulled away, which sent red flags up in his mind. Any attempt to touch her was rebuffed.  
  
“Whatever he said, you know he’s full of it,” Dewey continued. Webby didn’t answer.  
  
“He was saying whatever he thought would work to upset you,” Louie said. “It’s a con game.”  
  
Only her clenching her beak indicated that she’d heard Louie. Dewey brushed his hand against hers and she shifted about six inches to the right and out of his reach. Lena, who had been fiddling with her phone, looked up at Webby. Whatever he’d said must’ve had an impact, because Webby was shutting them out.  
  
“He was manipulating you,” Huey added.  
  
“I know,” Webby spat. “Don’t you think I know what manipulation looks like? I’ve dealt with it all my life.”  
  
“He hit a nerve,” Lena remarked.  
  
“I wonder what Granny’s up to,” Webby said, deliberately changing the subject. He might not have had as big a problem with it if she would let him touch her. He brushed her hair back and she hissed, rounding on him.  
  
“Webby…” he said. “I’m not your enemy.”  
  
She put on an extra burst of speed and left the boys chasing her. Lena brought up the rear, though her gaze flicked up to Webby. Dewey could feel Webby’s emotional distance like a pressure in his chest. It scared him. What if she never opened up again?  
  
“No one’s attacking you,” Huey called.  
  
Dewey threw himself at her and tackled her into the grass. This turned out to be a mistake because she whirled, kicking him into a fence. Dewey groaned and she winced. Right, never sneak up on a trained spy. That was probably good advice. Ugh, how hard had she hit him? Holy crap.  
  
“I’ve heard of tough love, but this is ridiculous,” Huey said.  
  
“She feels cornered,” Lena said. “You guys need to give her breathing room.”  
  
She stepped up to Webby and offered her a hand up. Huey was offering one to Dewey and they both rose, Webby looking distinctly guilty.  
  
“Lemme guess--Steelbeak said that if they knew the real you, they wouldn’t want to be your friends,” Lena said and Webby’s face tightened. She’d hit close to the mark, then. Dewey grimaced.  
  
“We know the real you,” Louie protested. “At least, as much as you’ve let us considering you’ve only been here about a month now.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Dewey,” Webby said. “Again.”  
  
“You don’t have to hide from us,” Dewey said gently.  
  
Webby’s gaze dropped and he doubted she’d take his words to heart. He stepped forward to hold her hand. Though she didn’t jump back as she had before, she also didn’t reciprocate. That worried him.  
  
“I love you,” he said softly and Huey rolled his eyes. Louie mimed vomiting.  
  
“I know,” Webby said flatly. “That’s the problem.”  
  
She jerked her hand away. “You had to leave those damn voicemails. You had to make me love you.”  
  
Her voice cracked and she was trembling.  
  
Shaking her head, she stormed off and this time, adhering to Lena’s advice, they gave her space. He hated doing it. He hated the idea that she was facing the world alone again. He’d give anything for her to feel safe and secure. The manor was in sight, at least, but that didn’t make him feel any better.  
  
“Webs…” he breathed and shook his head. His back hurt, but he was ignoring it for the time being.  
  
“I’ll talk to her,” Lena promised.  
  
He wasn’t sure that’d have any effect. Webby seemed determined to keep them out and his shoulders sank. Trust was an uphill battle and he was Sisyphus pushing that rock up. Or was it Atlas? No, wait, Atlas was the guy holding up the earth or the sky. Huey would know.  
  
Whatever the case, he wished there was a way to ensure that she trusted them a little more. Telling her that he loved her wasn’t enough. Somehow, he had to make a grand gesture and show her. He didn’t know how, but he’d figure it out. She was worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horrible, horrible cliffhanger ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that new DuckTales ep? No spoilers here, but omg, amazing.
> 
> But now we have to wait until May.
> 
> I hate you, Disney Channel. You did the same thing with Gravity Falls. >.>

“What did he say to you?” Lena asked as soon as they were alone. Webby had shut the door behind them and although she’d permitted Lena to stay, that was about as much ground as she was willing to concede. Webby kept glancing at her phone as if it might suddenly bite her and Lena had a desire to fling it into the wall. How had Steelbeak gotten her phone number? McDuck Industries was supposed to have created a foolproof way to prevent that.

  


“He’s not going to pick us off one by one,” she pressed. She put her hands on her shoulders. “If this is about earlier, I’m sorry. Don’t freak out on me.”

  


Webby’s gaze flitted toward her and then back toward her bed. She pushed Lena away, flung the book on her bed at the wall, and then turned her back on her. That might have been more dramatic if the younger girl wasn’t trembling badly. Lena sat beside her and stroked her hair. Webby’s gaze darted to her and then back toward the wall.

  


“I know it’s hard for you to take right now.”

  


“If something happens to you or anyone else, it’s because of me,” Webby said in a low voice. “I got you all into danger.”

  


“And we told you that if that’s the price we pay, then that’s it.”

  


Webby glanced over at her. “He wants to kill you to isolate me. And it’d work. I know it would.”

  


Someone knocked on the door and Lena hissed. It was probably Dewey if not all of the triplets. Glancing at the door, she shrugged at Webby and Webby shrugged back. Taking that as tacit approval, she hopped off the bed and opened the door to reveal the triplets, Scrooge, and Mrs. Beakley. Lena rolled her eyes. Oh, yes, Webby definitely wouldn’t feel cornered now, with all five of them ganging up on her.

  


“We’re not going to let it happen, lass,” Scrooge said. Webby’s face went blank and then returned to the mask that Lena hated. She nodded, disbelieving.

  


A shadow flickered on the edge of Lena’s vision and Lena whirled, hand flying to her amulet. After Magica’s return to her corporeal form, she’d transformed the amulet into her staff. However, Lena had had another one crafted after her resumption of physical form. It bore none of Magica’s magic, which was good, though the shadow she sensed was replete with it.

  


No one had seen it. Gritting her beak, she stepped away from Webby and the others. They weren’t paying her any mind; they were preoccupied with reassuring Webby. Lena took a step toward the window, where the shadow beckoned, before remembering that Webby’s room was upstairs. That could be problematic.

  


Still, there was a way to descend to the ground without jumping. She eased open the window, half expecting one of the triplets or Webby to call her out on it, and then headed for the trellis. It should support her weight, even if it had been a while since she’d taken to climbing the walls.

  


“Lena,” Mrs. Beakley snapped and Lena whirled. Right. She’d forgotten about Webby’s grandmother. It was her job to notice everything that transpired in the manor. Lena would have explained herself or at least halted if the shadow had flickered again and beckoned her down to the ground. Now, perhaps that wasn’t the greatest omen, but if Aunt Magica was behind this, Lena needed to know.

  


“Lena!” Mrs. Beakley snapped as Lena eased her way toward the ground. She rushed across the room and grabbed Lena’s wrist to prevent her from descending further. As she did, a figure flew up and past them through the window. She was lithe, lean, and Webby moaned. Mrs. Beakley hauled Lena back in as Black Heron circled Webby.

  


The lights flickered, shadows elongating, and Lena shivered uncontrollably. She hated the shadows. She hated being reminded of being trapped in the shadow realm. Instinctively, she looked toward Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley. The triplets met her gaze and Huey shifted toward her side. Louie took a few steps so he stood in front of her. Dewey, as usual, had eyes only for Webby.

  


“How did you get in here?” Scrooge demanded.

  


“The same way I did before,” Black Heron sneered. She lunged and Webby countered, tackling her to the floor. Black Heron flung her off and Webby turned her backward fall into a bounce that dropped her onto Heron’s back. She wrapped her arms about Heron’s neck in an attempt to strangle the older woman.

  


“I’ve outfitted my arm with new weapons,” Heron said. “Courtesy of Magica.”

  


As she spoke, the room grew dimmer still, despite it being the middle of the day. The sun was occluded and even the birds singing outside had silenced. The shadows manifested into physical entities and one flung Lena to the floor and bound her there. Lena screamed, but the sound was muffled as the shadows swarmed her.

  


“Lena!” Huey cried. “Uh...how do you--”

  


“If you consult the JWG right now, I’m disowning you as a brother,” Louie said. He searched the room and then dug his hand into his hoodie pocket. He pulled out his phone, flicked it over to flashlight mode, and shone it over Lena. The shadows hissed, retreating, and Lena’s chest, which was tight, loosened slightly.

  


This proved to be a short reprieve. Louie’s phone flickered and died at the same time that the room went dark. Lena felt Magica’s presence like a tremendous weight on her chest, a pressure in her ears, and an overwhelming sense of despair. She couldn’t grab her amulet because she was stuck to the floorboards. Shaking and bucking, she attempted to fling the shadows off. She could no longer see or hear the triplets. Dread pricked at her spine.

  


Yet she could feel the air moving about and realized, with a sense of horror, that Webby and Heron were still fighting. They were doing so blind and deaf, but they were attacking each other. Mrs. Beakley seemed to have joined in too, but Lena couldn’t be certain. There was precious little she could do from here.

  


“Except die,” Magica hissed and Lena wanted to scream, but she couldn’t make a sound. Whimpering in her mind, she wished for her amulet. Magica strode forward and ripped it off her neck. She couldn’t see her aunt, however, her presence was all around. This was a nightmare and Lena needed to wake up.

  


Shouldn’t they have had some warning before Heron and Magica struck? Or had Magica decided not to wait? Black Heron had wanted Webby dead for a decade now and with her turning traitor, she had no reason to deny herself. Lena bucked again, terrified of what might happen to her and the others. The triplets might escape unscathed, provided they didn’t do anything stupid like interfere. The same couldn’t be said for Webby, Scrooge, and Mrs. Beakley.

  


Heart pounding, light materialized in the form of Magica’s scepter. It glowed against Lena’s face and cast off blistering cold, the kind that instantly froze anything in its path. Lena’s gaze was wide and her aunt’s hatred was a living, breathing thing between them. Lena choked on it.

  


“Did you ever doubt it would end this way?” Magica crooned, unable to resist gloating now that she had her pinned. “You had to pay for your treachery somehow. And--”

  


A cane came out of nowhere and smacked into Magica’s head. Magica blinked, the scepter’s light flickering too, and for a brief minute, the room was illuminated again. Black Heron had Webby in a headlock and was suffocating her; Mrs. Beakley was winding up to punch Heron in the solar plexus. The triplets were arrayed around the room with Louie attempting to no avail to restore his phone’s flashlight function. And Scrooge was...right in front of Lena. His gaze blazed contempt and loathing. It took Lena’s breath away, not because she hated seeing it on him, but because it was a relief to know Scrooge could feel that strongly about her.

  


“Do you mind?” Magica snapped.

  


“As a matter of fact, I do,” he retorted. He aimed another blow for her midsection and Magica restored the darkness to prevent it from connecting. It had been a feint and something cracked after his cane made contact with her. Magica howled in pain and cursed.

  


In the minute where everything had been illuminated, the shadows had melted away and she sat upright. The shadows wavered like they wanted to hold her down again but couldn’t with their mistress otherwise occupied. It hurt to breathe and when the fighting drew Scrooge and Magica away, she breathed slightly easier.

  


“You get your hands off my granddaughter this instant!” Mrs. Beakley said and then the sounds died again. Lena’s heart hammered in her rib cage. The last glimpse she’d had of Webby was of her being strangled. This was their second match and she would have thought Webby would gain the upper hand. Either she’d grown careless or Black Heron had a few new tricks up her sleeve. Lena was willing to bet it was the latter.

  


She touched her amulet and magic’s cool, reassuring rush filled her. It was pathetic compared to her aunt’s spell, yet it offered faint illumination, enough to see the players. Webby had gone limp in Heron’s arms. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Lena struggled against the shadows that held her fast; Dewey, who was uninhibited, rushed forward to attack Black Heron.

  


“No!” he cried.

  


“Dewey, stay out of this!” Mrs. Beakley commanded and Black Heron, dropping Webby like so much refuse, knocked him away and into the wall.

  


“Finally...I have your attention again, 22,” Heron sneered. She punted Webby in the ribs and something cracked. Before she had a chance to retract her leg, Mrs. Beakley grabbed it and snapped it. The look on her face was feral, unlike anything Lena had ever seen and what she prayed she’d never see again. Mrs. Beakley looked fully capable of murder.

  


* * *

 

  


“Webby!” Dewey cried, flinging himself to her side. His back was killing him, Heron’s attack having aggravated his earlier injury, but he didn’t care about that. Webby wasn’t breathing. Heron’s marks stood out livid on her neck and he cast his gaze about for Huey. Huey would know what to do. Huey always knew. Panic constricted Dewey’s throat and he whimpered, clutching her to him.

  


Had Heron crushed her windpipe? He didn’t know. Huey caught his younger brother’s eye, but before he had a chance to scurry over, Magica aimed a blast for him that spun him about and then knocked him still. She didn’t get a chance to celebrate her good fortune because Scrooge attacked with a vengeance. Dewey, meanwhile, was horrified and torn. Neither Webby nor Huey were moving.

  


In the faint light, the fight between Heron and Beakley was growing more and more vicious. Black Heron was attempting to fight her on a broken leg and Mrs. Beakley punched her in the face.

  


“Guys...Webby…Huey…” Dewey said weakly, but his voice was too thin to penetrate if Magica’s spell hadn’t muted it entirely. Scooping her up into his arms, he reached his older brother’s side. Louie was already there, shaking Huey’s shoulders and then listening to his chest. He then pressed down hard on Huey’s chest and Huey gasped, bolting upright and coughing.

  


Huey would be all right. His expression was pained and perhaps he’d suffered an injury, but he wouldn’t die. That was the important thing. In his arms, Webby suddenly felt like dead weight and he glanced at her. Her face was waxen.

  


The lights flashed again and stayed on this time. Whatever Scrooge and Magica were doing required all of Magica’s attention. In the corner of the room, Black Heron shot at Mrs. Beakley, who dodged the projectiles and then kicked Heron in the ribs. Heron tackled her, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her into the floor. Dewey’s heart was in his throat. Were they...losing?

  


Mrs. Beakley threw Heron off her and then stood, unsteady, hair coming of its bun. Across the room, Scrooge and Magica were intent on their duel and looked too evenly matched to declare a winner. Black Heron swayed, her legs crumpling underneath her. No...they weren’t losing. He hoped.

  


“Webby!” Lena cried, staggering over to them. She held her amulet tightly and muttered something Dewey didn’t understand, possibly Latin. Webby remained still, disturbingly so.

  


“Heron didn’t kill her, did she?” Louie asked, voice low and urgent. “She’s not breathing...and the longer she goes without breathing…”

  


“The greater the oxygen deprivation,” Huey finished, coughing. His voice was hoarse from Louie jumping on him. He frowned, pounding his fists on Webby’s chest. Webby gasped, shuddering, and collapsed against Dewey. She did not regain consciousness.

  


“Surrender before I end you,” Mrs. Beakley said coldly.

  


“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your granddaughter?” Heron sneered, somehow haughty despite sitting on the floor and looking up at her opponent. They were in the middle of the room and Scrooge and Magica had managed to demolish most of Webby’s furniture. Dewey’s grip tightened on her.

  


The blood drained from Mrs. Beakley’s face as her gaze fell upon Webby, limp in Dewey’s arms.

  


Black Heron surged up, striking Mrs. Beakley with an uppercut and following it with a roundhouse kick. Unfortunately for her, her remaining leg would not support her weight. Unfortunately for Beakley, she’d left herself open out of concern for Webby.

  


“Retreat for now,” Magica hissed, shifting into a vulture. She grabbed Black Heron by the arms and hauled her out. Her magic was unsteady or perhaps just her in general because she dropped before flying. Scrooge had left her a few bumps and bruises and the older duck was hardly winded.

  


“I had her!” Heron howled.

  


“No, you didn’t,” Magica countered as they flew away.

  


“Webbigail…” Scrooge said, frowning. Dewey clung to her.

  


“She’s breathing,” Huey said softly. “But only just.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Steelbeak had spies everywhere. Even if he couldn’t physically approach Webby, not without risking arrest, he could still stay abreast of the situation. Therefore, when he’d been mulling over how to kill Dewey and Agent 22/Mrs. Beakley, he’d received a rude surprise. The Egghead that had delivered the news in question had barely escaped with his life. Livid, Steelbeak rose from his desk in the hotel room and stormed toward the door.

Black Heron had put his daughter in a coma. He knew that she wanted her dead and he should have anticipated this, but it had still caught him off guard. That Agent 22 had failed to protect her granddaughter didn’t surprise him at all. No, what did was that Heron had gotten the jump on Webby. He suspected foul play.

The agent hadn’t been able to obtain any further information, such as how Black Heron had put Webby in a coma. It didn’t matter. It was all well and good for him to hide in his room until he could put his plans in motion, but he couldn’t forsake Webbigail when she needed him. Incensed, deciding that he was going to drop Heron into a coma and then see whether she survived, he left the room and booked an Uber. If anyone wanted to gainsay him and not drive from St. Canard to Duckburg, they could deal with his guns.

On the ride over, he glanced at his phone and then decided to call Webby’s number. She wouldn’t answer, but one of the boys might. He might be able to pry more information out of Dewey or his brothers. Lena would be tight-lipped. As for Mrs. Beakley, she’d speak to him over her dead body. Of course, that was the general idea.

The phone rang and rang. Just when he’d abandoned hope of someone answering, the line engaged.

“Hello, Steelbeak,” Mrs. Beakley snapped.

“I didn’t even say anything and you’re already lining up the firing squad,” he protested. “I wanted to find out how Heron laid out my daughter.”

She was silent for a long minute, so long that he questioned whether she’d answer him. When she spoke, it was clear she’d chosen her words carefully.

“Magica de Spell helped her disable us so she had the upper hand.”

“And you let her?” he snapped. “You failed my daughter twice, 22. I was already planning on killing you, but for this, I’ll make sure it’s long and slow. You wanted to be her guardian? You can’t protect her. You couldn’t then and you can’t now.”

“Might I remind you that Magica is a weapon you unleashed on the world? That she never would have known about Webby until your interference?”

“And might I remind you that Heron’s obsession with your granddaughter and your inability to defend Webby placed her in a coma?”

He snapped his beak. “You’d better hope she recovers. Because if she doesn’t...oh...you’ll be begging for death by the time I’m done with you.”

“If she doesn’t recover, I’ll look forward to it.”

She hung up on him and he growled, glancing up to see where they were. They were about to cross the bridge into Duckburg. The police were probably aware he was on the loose and he’d have to avoid security en route to Webby’s room, but as Webby’s father, he had the right to that information. He had more of a right to her than Beakley did, even if she was technically Webby’s legal guardian. How the hell had she been so stupid and lax as to allow Webby to get hurt like that?

He couldn’t believe this. Once was an accident. Twice was on purpose. He would accept no other explanation. If she didn’t care enough about her daughter’s progeny to defend her, then she didn’t deserve to share the world with her.

Steelbeak saw this as a two-pronged attack, one on him and one on Webby. Webby was half of him, which meant anyone who hurt Webby also injured him. And whether it was negligence or on purpose, Beakley would pay. He just hoped that Webby would be alive and conscious to understand.

They arrived at the hospital, Steelbeak flung money at the driver, and then he walked out. The driver was yelling something about how he was supposed to have paid in advance and on a credit card or with PayPal. He ignored him. Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the information desk.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.

Darkwing Duck was manning the information desk along with his daughter Quiverwing. When Steelbeak approached, he looked up and Steelbeak felt like facepalming. Hard.

“Why are you here?” he snapped.

“Why are you?” Darkwing countered. “Crime doesn’t take a vacation, so neither do I.”

“I’m here to see my daughter, not listen to your stupid ramblings about justice and goodness. If I wanted to do that, I could just watch the damn Darkwing Duck TV show your father made.”

“That show was a classic and you know it. And anyway, I’m not gonna tell you where Webby is. Nice try. Scrooge McDuck has the place crawling with security from McDuck Industries and Gizmoduck besides. You’re not getting up there.”

“You have a daughter. What if something happened to her?”

“Is that a threat?” Darkwing snapped, jumping on top of the desk.

“Dad, I think he means that if something happened to me, you’d be worried too,” Quiverwing put in.

“If something happens to you because of him, then I’m gonna happen to him,” Darkwing growled.

“For fuck’s sake,” Steelbeak growled, losing his temper. “Just tell me where Webby is. Or I’ll find her myself and I’ll blow holes in anyone standing in my way.”

“Gee, when you put it that way, sure I’m gonna let you walk around armed in the hospital,” Darkwing said sarcastically. “Just to let you play target practice with the doctors and nurses.”

“Maybe I should start with you!” he snarled.

“No one’s shooting anyone!” she interjected. “Look, if you promise not to start a mass shooting, I can tell you where Webby’s room is.”

Darkwing gave her a look of utter betrayal. “You want that psychopath up there with her?”

“Dad...he’s worried about her. I can tell. He has that look on his face that you get after I’m knocked around too much.”

“He’s worried about her because he thinks of her as a possession,” he hissed back. “He doesn’t see her as a person.”

Deciding that this might be his best opportunity to find her and also deciding that it should be easy to pinpoint her location, as it’d be the one beefed up with security, he crept past the desk while father and daughter argued. He rolled his eyes once he was clear and hit a button on a nearby elevator. She should be in ICU, which meant she’d be on the third floor. From there, he’d wing it.

When he reached the third floor, he found it effectively under lockdown. Gizmoduck must have been alerted beforehand because he was there, facing the elevator doors when they opened. Steelbeak raised his gun and Gizmoduck melted it.

“Not another step,” he warned.

“I just want to see my daughter,” Steelbeak growled. “That’s not a crime, is it?”

“You kidnapped your daughter. That is a crime,” he countered. “And besides the point, no one wants you here. Friends and family only.”

“I’m her father!” Steelbeak exploded. “Get out of my way, you bucket of bolts!”

He shoved past him and Gizmoduck held him in a tight, robotic embrace. Try as he might, he couldn’t struggle his way through. As he squirmed and tried to find a weak spot in Gizmoduck’s suit to exploit, he heard a cane coming down the hallway. Scrooge McDuck and Bentina Beakley were there, adding to the Christmas cheer. Steelbeak snarled, lunging at them but not budging any inch.

“I thought I might see you here,” Scrooge said softly.

“I want to see Webbigail,” he growled.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” 22 retorted.

“She’s my daughter, damn it! How dare you keep her from me.”

“How dare you keep her from me,” she shot back. “You had her for ten years and in that time, you only encouraged Black Heron’s loathing. You could have done something to prevent this and you chose not to. You chose to let Black Heron go rogue.”

“She wasn’t under my protection. She was under yours and, yet again, you let her slip through your fingers. How does it feel to be the most incompetent SHUSH agent after your daughter?”

Agent 22 surged forward and Scrooge placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Not so fast, 22,” he cautioned. “He’s trying to rile you up.”

“You have no idea how much I loathe you and Black Heron,” she growled.

“The feeling is mutual. Let me in or I’ll barge my way through.”

She snorted. “You’ll push your way past Gizmoduck? I doubt it.”

His fingers trembled, reaching toward the pistol on his hip. Gizmoduck immobilized him completely with a syringe to the back of his neck. Paralyzed but not unconscious, Steelbeak glowered up at them. He couldn’t speak; the paralysis was complete. Mrs. Beakley stood over him and her eyes blazed with hatred.

“You’re not getting within ten feet of my granddaughter,” she snarled.

One of the triplets came over, the one with the red hat and shirt. He stared down at him and Steelbeak glared at him too for good measure.

“Webby’s waking up,” he said and Steelbeak would have sagged on the floor if he could have. Webby would be all right. Or, perhaps, not completely all right--time would tell for that--but the worst was over. His daughter had survived. He shouldn’t have doubted her. Webby was nothing if not a consummate survivor.

“There. You have your information,” Agent 22 told him. “Now, Gizmoduck, I believe the DPD has some questions for him.”

“Let’s go,” Gizmoduck said, hauling Steelbeak off. For now, he’d play nice with the cops. However, he had no intention of being locked up again. Webby needed him and, though he’d never admit it aloud, he’d failed her. He had to make amends and he’d start with punishing Black Heron for nearly killing his only child.

* * *

Dewey rushed to Webby’s side. She rolled her head over to look at him and he caressed her cheek.

“Dewey?” she croaked. “Ugh...what happened?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, incredulous.

“It’s not uncommon not to remember the traumatic incident,” Huey said, coming into the room. “The brain tries to shield itself.”

Dewey leaned forward and brushed his beak against hers. She kissed him back, albeit weaker than normal because she was still recovering. When he pulled back, she grabbed his hand. She was shaking.

“How are you feeling?” Dewey said.

“Like I got run over by a tractor trailer,” she groaned. “Seriously, though, what happened?”

“Black Heron attacked you,” Huey said. “Magica darkened the room and Black Heron almost killed you.”

Webby cursed softly and then attempted to sit up, but was too weak to do so. She fell back against the pillows and groaned. Her gaze searched the room as if Black Heron might be hiding somewhere in the curtains. When she didn’t find her, rather than relax, she grew more agitated, playing with the tubes and wires attached to her like she wanted to break them off.

“You need to rest, Webby,” her grandmother said. “You were in a coma for a couple of days.”

“Was Steelbeak here?” Webby blurted.

“He tried,” Huey said and scowled. “But Gizmoduck and Uncle Scrooge stopped him, along with Mrs. B.”

Webby would’ve yanked the tubes and wires out then if Dewey hadn’t grabbed both her hands. Perhaps it’d been a mistake to inform her of all of this upon her waking.

“Where’s Black Heron now?” she demanded.

There was an awkward silence and she growled, trying to sit up again and unable to rise more than a couple inches off the pillows. Helpless, she gasped out a sob and then shuddered again, berating herself mentally for being so weak. Dewey kissed her right hand.

“It’s okay,” Dewey soothed. “We have it under control.”

“We don’t know where Black Heron is,” Louie said and Huey glared at him.

“Do you want to scare her back into a coma?” Huey snapped.

“She deserves to know the truth,” Louie said. “Besides, she’s not going anywhere.”

Webby’s gaze searched each of them in turn. She was completely defenseless and she knew it. She hated it. The last time she’d been this defenseless, she’d been a small child at Black Heron’s mercy. Black Heron could swoop in now and finish her off. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“We’re not gonna leave you,” Dewey promised.

“We won’t let anything happen to you again,” Mrs. Beakley added.

“Why did she get away?” Webby asked and heard the accusatory note in her voice. “You said Magica was involved.”

“Magica whisked her away,” Mrs. Beakley said. “After I broke Heron’s leg. She won’t be running anywhere any time soon.”

Webby’s chest was tight and she gasped back another sob. She was petrified, which, although not an unfamiliar emotion to her, was nonetheless immobilizing in its own way. Dewey sat on the bed and cradled her face in his hands. He rubbed his beak against hers.

“I mean it, Webs,” he said. “No one in this room is going to let Black Heron or Steelbeak lay a finger on you again.”

“That didn’t stop them before…” she whispered and then clung to him.

“That was because they caught us by surprise,” Mrs. Beakley said. “That won’t happen again. I promise.”

“We’ll stay here until you’re released,” Scrooge promised, entering the room with Gizmoduck beside him. Webby turned her head to conceal her tears and Dewey brought her face back to his so he could nuzzle her.

“Hey,” Dewey said softly. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t you have any good news?” Webby asked.

“Steelbeak’s going to be locked up in a place where even his cronies cannae find him,” Scrooge said and his eyes narrowed. “This time, DPD had better do their jobs.”

Webby tried to push herself up, failed again, and groaned. “Where’s Lena?”

“She’s back at the manor casting protective spells,” Scrooge explained. “We won’t be taken by surprise again, as Beakley said.”

“Can I just...can I have a few minutes to myself?” Webby whispered. She wanted to cry and she didn’t want anyone to bear witness to it. They might use it to exploit her. While she knew logically that this wasn’t the case, that didn’t necessarily mean she believed it. She was shaking badly and Dewey crawled up onto the bed entirely to press her head into his chest.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “You’ll recover and then you’ll kick her ass next time.”

“And if you can’t beat her by yourself, Darkwing Duck and Quiverwing are downstairs,” Louie added.

“I love you,” Dewey murmured into her hair.

“Perhaps we ought to give her some space,” Mrs. Beakley suggested and the others filed out, leaving only her grandmother and Dewey. She was clinging to him still and she balled her fists in his shirt. Her heart pounded and she shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him.

Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat and she reluctantly pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Steelbeak brought this up and he’s right. I haven’t done my due diligence and kept you safe. Your injuries are my fault.”

Webby’s throat was still tight and she shook her head. This was the first time anyone had accepted responsibility for her without shifting the blame onto someone else. Though she had stopped kissing Dewey, she was still holding onto him. He stroked her hair and she shut her eyes. She could drift off right now and that scared her off because she wasn’t sure she was truly safe. Dewey’s presence was reassuring and it shouldn’t be. He couldn’t protect her.

“Get some rest, Webby,” her grandmother said and stroked her hair too. “None of us are going anywhere. You’re perfectly safe.”

Webby snorted. She’d never felt safe in her life. Or, rather, if she had, it’d been before her abduction, and none of those memories had resurfaced, at least not yet.

She didn't see much alternative in resting. After all, they were going to keep her here, regardless, and she couldn't exactly fight them. Yawning, she pulled Dewey as close as she dared and relaxed in his embrace. He nuzzled her and she smiled, drifting off almost against her will. Almost, because she felt comfortable in his arms and she knew he wouldn’t leave her. Even if that did make him insane.

* * *

Black Heron was pissed and crippled. Magica had healed her but had left her with a limp to remind her of her place. If she didn’t need her, she would have killed her. As it was, Black Heron stomped around Magica’s lair in Duckburg. They were at a safe house, one sanctified by magic and should be shielded from Lena and Scrooge’s prying. Right now, Heron didn’t care about that. She had come within inches of murdering Webby and then been forced to retreat.

“Do you think I’m any happier?” Magica snapped. “I could have had Lena, the little traitorous brat, if it hadn’t been for your incompetence.”

“Me?” Heron snarled. “I’m not the one losing to my former shadow.”

“No, you’re the one losing to a child.”

Heron aimed at a laser at Magica, who casually deflected it. Unlike Heron, Magica was relatively unscathed from their encounter. It was another reason for her to resent her. Heron wasn’t over the fact that she’d been so close to killing Webby and yet so far. No one was going to let her approach Webby again. Her chance was gone.

That assumed Steelbeak didn’t have it out for her now. It was one thing to constantly threaten Webby and undermine her at FOWL. It was another to almost kill her. Steelbeak might forgive many things, but insurrection against his daughter was not one of them.

She had no idea what had befallen Webby after they’d been forced to retreat. She might have perished, but Black Heron was convinced that if she had, Steelbeak would have killed her not long after. Heron was playing a dangerous game. And Magica was not helping.

“We’ve had a setback,” Magica said. That was an understatement. “It’s not impossible to recover from this. I have experience.”

“In failing?” Heron countered and Magica slapped her. Or, rather, she tried to, but Heron grabbed her wrist and punched her in the face. Magica’s scepter glowed and Heron found herself flying across the room and into a wall.

“Don’t touch me,” Magica spat.

“You’d be nothing without your magic,” Heron spat back. She jumped to her feet and blew several shots at Magica’s scepter, which she blocked. They were feints, however, and she grabbed onto the staff. Magica growled, struggling to keep her grip on it. Heron kicked at her knees, but the effort caused her to stand on her bad leg. She tumbled, taking the other woman with her.

“You are ridiculous,” Magica snapped. “You’re outmatched and outclassed. Give it up.”

At this close range, she couldn’t miss. She leveled her laser at Magica’s face. “And I can blow you away in a second. Choose your words carefully.”

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Perhaps we’re evenly matched. But you’d better sleep with one eye open, darling.”

“Same goes for you,” Heron snapped.

“Oh, with that gimp leg, I’ll hear you coming,” she said sweetly and Heron growled.

“I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

They glared at each other for a minute more before they struggled to their feet.

“We need a plan,” Magica said.

“Agreed. If Webbigail survived the encounter, then she’s in the hospital. But she’s too well protected right now to touch.”

“And the manor will be much better guarded after our recent attack.”

“So we wait. We wait for them to lower their guard. We can afford to wait.”

“Can you?” Magica sneered. “Steelbeak, as soon as he finds you, is going to kill you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Heron said dismissively. She wasn’t arrogant enough to assume Magica would protect her. Rather, she assumed the other woman would laugh at her demise.

“Famous last words.”

Heron glowered and Magica snorted.

“Let’s plan now,” Magica said and then shrugged. “Or you can continue limping around, Gimpy. Your choice.”

“I despise you.”

“Wait in line.”

Their partnership was tenuous at best. Under the wrong circumstances, it’d fraction. Heron could only hope that it’d last long enough for her to kill Webby, preferably in front of Agent 22. The look on 22’s face after she destroyed her granddaughter would be worth the ten long years of her playing nice. And if Steelbeak came after once she’d killed Webby? That was his prerogative, but she’d be in a better place emotionally, the best she’d been in for years.

And she could die happy knowing she’d finally destroyed her enemy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter required a bit of tweaking. The next entry in this series was retconned, which meant I had to figure out where the retcon actually started. Hence it wasn't posted when the other updates were.

Webby awoke and felt alone. She pushed herself into a sitting position, which she hadn’t been able to do earlier, and discovered Dewey was missing. Heart in her throat, she looked around the dim room. The moon outside, as well as the downed lights, told her she must’ve awoken in the night. Her grandmother was curled up on the seat along the wall across from her bed, but Dewey was nowhere to be seen. What if her father was right? What if he really had abandoned her? She was in no condition to race after him.  
  
“Granny?” she called softly and her grandmother started. She must’ve been sleeping lightly.  
  
“Ah, you’re awake again,” she said and smiled at her. “You must be feeling better if you can sit up now.”  
  
“Where’s Dewey? And the others?” she said and swallowed back panic.  
  
“Visiting hours are over, dear. Mr. McDuck was able to pull strings and let me in, but they only let in family,” she said. “The others are at home.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
She felt stupid for having asked and she glanced down at the thin blue blanket covering her. Her grandmother rose and crossed the room to smooth back her hair.  
  
“What did Steelbeak say to you when he called you earlier?” her grandmother asked, drawing up a chair at her bedside.  
  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to trust us, Webby. I’m sorry you were attacked and I blame myself. But you still have to talk to us and tell us things. We’re not going to condemn you for being afraid.”  
  
We, we, we. As though they were a team operation. Webby’s throat was tight. Though she’d been in Duckburg for almost a month now, she had had few moments alone with her grandmother. For the most part, she’d been trying to avoid them. Her feelings about Agent 22 were muddled. All her life, she’d been raised to hate her and she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t. Yet her grandmother loved her. Her grandmother had let her poison her to prove a point, that Webby wasn’t a FOWL agent.  
  
“I know Steelbeak and Black Heron weren’t exactly flattering when it came to discussing me.”  
  
Webby’s gaze met her grandmother’s and Webby’s beak twitched like she wanted to smile. She felt so damned vulnerable that she wished she were alone and simultaneously didn’t. If she could have risen from the bed and walked out of there to hole up somewhere like a wounded animal, she would have. Anything would’ve been better than someone seeing her like this.  
  
“Please. Please trust me when I say that I want what’s best for you, that I always have.”  
  
Maybe it was because she was so weak that the doubts had flitted in. Or perhaps it was Steelbeak’s voice in the back of her mind telling her not to trust anyone. She had survived so long by not trusting anyone; the few people she had trusted had died or vanished, after all. But Dewey...Dewey and Lena and her grandmother…they weren’t going anywhere.  
  
“Let me guess. He told you we’ll all leave you or betray you, that he’s the only one you can trust. Is that right?”  
  
Webby’s hands curled into the sheets.  
  
“The Duck family is nothing but loyal, Webbigail. As are Lena and I. No one is going anywhere and you know Steelbeak wants you back as his possession. He would do or say anything to convince you to return.  
  
“You’re scared. I understand that. Any time you were vulnerable at FOWL, they would exploit it, especially Black Heron.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley’s face scrunched up. “I do wish I’d gotten the chance to kill her. The damage is already done, I fear.”  
  
“He’ll come back, won’t he?” she blurted and then hated herself for it.  
  
“The others will come back during the daytime, yes,” her grandmother said.  
  
Webby didn’t know what to say or how to prolong the conversation. While she was grateful that her grandmother was here, she wasn’t the one she’d wanted by her side. Mrs. Beakley had all of that negative baggage attached to her after the ten years Webby had spent at FOWL. Dewey had none. Hell, even Lena would’ve been preferable.  
  
“I expect Heron told you that I’m the reason she’s missing an arm.”  
  
“Over and over.” Lest Webby ever stand a chance of forgetting.  
  
“I’m sure they’ve called me every foul name in the book, as well as denigrating your mother for being drugged by Steelbeak and then raped.”  
  
Webby froze. She knew she’d been the product of a one night stand and that Wren had been a conquest for Steelbeak. He had neglected to mention the rest, of course. The blood drained from Webby’s face.  
  
“I see they didn’t tell you the entire story. I’m not surprised.”  
  
“He...I…” She was at a loss.  
  
“If your father had had any morals at all, well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”  
  
Steelbeak truly hadn’t wanted her because she was his get, but because she was a prize of some sort, a trophy from a disgusting night. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed back the bile that burned her throat. That put things into a disturbing sort of perspective. Shaking, she forced herself to meet her grandmother’s eyes again.  
  
It wasn’t that Webby didn’t believe her. No, she was willing to believe the worst in Steelbeak, because she’d seen what he was capable of. It was that the truth of the matter broke her in a way she hadn’t been before. When Steelbeak couldn’t kill Wren, he’d destroyed her instead. Webby had no idea how her mother had died, aside from Steelbeak’s comments that struck her as false now.  
  
“I wanted you from the moment you were laid, regardless of the circumstances,” Mrs. Beakley continued, watching her closely. “I raised you from the moment you hatched until that fateful day and I never stopped loving you. Anyone who saw you as a hatchling fell for you too, the same way. Well, except for Mr. McDuck, but at the time, he was mourning his family.”  
  
“I won’t leave you,” she promised. “I swear on my life, Webby.”  
  
“Where’s Steelbeak now?” she asked. She was never referring to him as her father again if she could help it. Her shoulders shook and she ached for love and affection. Mrs. Beakley hugged her tightly to her and Webby’s arms went around her.  
  
“Below the Money Bin in a prison cell. It’s the most secure place in Duckburg. We still don’t know where Heron and Magica are, unfortunately.”  
  
She cupped Webby’s face in her hands. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same yet. Or if you don’t feel it the way I do. It’s enough to have you here and with me.”  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes and her throat was tight. She wanted Dewey. She was afraid to trust her grandmother and yet she desperately wanted to. Somehow, she had grown to depend on Dewey a bit too much. She might have tied her sanity to him.  
  
“Get some sleep,” she advised. “We can talk more in the morning, all right?”  
  
She released her and Webby felt like a small child losing her only source of solace. Her beak quivered.  
  
“I can sit here if you want until you fall asleep,” she suggested. Webby nodded.  
  
“The others will be here in the morning. Until then, pleasant dreams, Webby.”  
  
Webby’s beak quirked again. That was a hopeless endeavor, wishing for her to have pleasant dreams. She almost invariably had nightmares, but it was kind of her grandmother to wish them on her. With Steelbeak’s words reverberating in her mind and her grandmother’s explanation of how she’d come about likewise bouncing around in there, she doubted she’d have anything approaching pleasant dreams.

* * *

  
  
The next time she awoke, she was completely alone. Tears streaked down her cheeks and she rubbed at them. She’d had a nightmare that everyone had left and Steelbeak stood alone in her hospital room with cold, cruel eyes as the moonlight shone down upon him. He’d been holding a gun and telling her that it was time to go home, she’d been with her “friends” long enough…  
  
Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. Maybe it was a prophecy. The sun was up and the clock on her heart monitor said it was seven a.m. Her stomach churned and she jumped when a nurse walked in. The nurse had blonde hair, a heart-shaped face, and dragon earrings. Behind her came a dog orderly, who was pushing along a large cart full of breakfast items. Once he’d delivered her food to her and the nurse took her vitals, Webby was left alone again.  
  
She wanted to pull her knees into her chest, but she could barely do more than sit up. Swiping at her cheeks again, she gasped back a sob. She had no idea when visiting hours started or ended. Although she had a remote attached to her bed, she had no desire to turn on the TV. Not having had much access to TV growing up, she didn’t see the appeal.  
  
Without her phone or her weapons, she felt defenseless. Moreover, wires and needles and lines connected to all different parts of her body and a cuff around her arm was checking her blood pressure. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. There was no reason to cry, just because everyone was gone and Steelbeak’s words...and then her grandmother’s…  
  
Why had her grandmother wanted her if she’d been the product of a rape? Why would she love her? Then again, she didn’t completely comprehend love. On a biological level, love made sense in keeping society together. And on a logical level, Steelbeak’s actions had ensured that he had an heir to FOWL. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. None of this was making her feel any better.  
  
“Webs?” a familiar voice called and Webby startled, reaching for the first thing on hand, which was her call button/tv remote/bed control. Dewey was at her side and she didn’t know where he’d come from. Her heart pounded and her heartrate spiked according to the meter above her bed.  
  
“Hey. Hey. Calm down, it’s just me. The others wanted to see you too, but...have you been crying?”  
  
She scrubbed at her cheeks again and he pulled her hands away. Leaning in, he brushed his beak along the tear tracks and she gasped back a sob. Dewey climbed onto the bed with her and pulled her into his arms, even with all that damn medical stuff attached to her. If he moved the wrong way, she’d end up tangled in it.  
  
“Louie was going to apologize...or bug you about FOWL...I don’t know which,” he said. “But then he got distracted by one of his cons going awry at breakfast.”  
  
Webby raised her eyebrows and Dewey shrugged.  
  
“So I snuck away,” he added and kissed her on the beak. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. If her behavior was a little more desperate than usual, it was because of everything echoing in her head. Her heart raced and she wondered whether she could get away with anything in the hospital. Dewey had already told her point blank that she was pushing things too far too fast. But...how could she ensure he wouldn’t leave her otherwise?  
  
Or would that make her as bad as Steelbeak?  
  
“Webby?” he asked, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Her beak trembling, she relayed what her grandmother had told her that morning. Dewey frowned, his forehead crinkling.  
  
“You know I love you, right? And how you came into this world doesn’t matter, okay? I still don’t know who my dad is and I don’t think Mom is ever going to tell us.”  
  
She’d rather not know who her father was than be in this situation, but she didn’t want to say that and hurt his feelings. She pulled him closer again and they kissed, Webby leaning up against him so that she could feel him surrounding her. His fingers ran through her hair and she molded her body against his.  
  
“You’re not Steelbeak,” he murmured when they broke apart. “You’re not a psychopath.”  
  
“Mmm,” she said, which wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing. She kissed him again, applying pressure this time, and her hands wandered along his body. He brought them firmly back around his neck.  
  
“Webby, I’m serious,” he said, pulling away from her. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”  
  
“I do too,” she huffed.  
  
“Stop,” he said and the word struck her like an arrow to the heart. “No. I want that with you, yes, but not now. We’re still kids, Webby.”  
  
“You might have had the chance to be a kid, but I didn’t,” she said and was unable to keep the hurt from her voice. Dewey straightened and left her alone on the bed. Tears stinging her eyes and hating herself for feeling rejected, she turned her head. Was Steelbeak right? Would he abandon her? He’d said he’d wanted it with her, though. What did the timing matter?  
  
“We’re in a hospital,” he said in a hushed voice. “And my brothers, Uncle Scrooge, Mrs. B, and Lena are coming in. Do you really want them walking in on that?”  
  
“If they’re coming, then where are they?” she asked, speaking into her pillow.  
  
He dragged the chair up against her bed and stroked her hair. She refused to be comforted and she shuddered.  
  
“They’re eating breakfast. Like I said, I snuck away before they had a chance to notice I was missing. They’ll be here in ten or fifteen minutes.  
  
“Webs...I don’t know much about girls, but...I think you’re confusing physical intimacy with love.”  
  
At this, she rolled over and stared at him.  
  
“Just because I don’t want sex right now doesn’t mean I don’t love you or want you. You don’t need sex to be with someone. I’m not going to leave you.”  
  
He leaned forward to kiss her and she turned her head.  
  
“Why is it always all or nothing with you?” he asked, exasperated.  
  
Webby dug her fingers into her palm. She was shaking and refused to reply to him. So what if she was conflating the two? Didn’t physical intimacy mean he was less likely to wander or abandon her? Didn’t it mean he could get something from her that he couldn’t get from someone else?  
  
Though thinking about it made her realize this was less about physical intimacy and more about how little self-esteem she had. With a sigh, she turned back over to look at him. She brushed her palm along his cheek and he held it there.  
  
She was running on terrified again and making decisions based off what she feared would happen, not what would. Her grandmother was right. She needed to have more faith in people. It was hard, but it wasn’t fair to anyone to keep them locked out.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and he kissed her palm.  
  
They gazed at each other for a minute and she thought she could get lost in his eyes. The tears that had pricked her eyes before unexpectedly flowed and she gasped back a sob. Dewey hugged her and she hugged him back tightly, fiercely.  
  
“Sssh, it’s okay,” he soothed. It wasn’t and they both knew it, but it was reassuring to hear, nonetheless. Even if it was a platitude.  
  
Thankfully, she got herself under control fairly quickly. After all, she had practice at it. Dewey frowned and kissed her. This time, she didn’t push her luck and her hands fisted in his shirt. Then she sniffed and frowned, releasing him.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
“When was the last time you bathed?” she asked. “You’re still wearing that perfume.”  
  
“I didn’t have time last night!” he said, defensive. “I crashed into bed and when I woke up, everyone wanted breakfast.”  
  
“Excuses,” she said and smirked. Her levity vanished, however, as she heard steps approaching. She released him and wielded the remote like a weapon.  
  
“I dinnae think you’re going to hurt many people with that, Webbigail,” Scrooge McDuck said and she relaxed again.  
  
“Though you could always throw it at someone,” Louie said. “Feeling any better?”  
  
“A little,” she said, resting back against the pillows. Dewey’s hand sought hers and held it.  
  
“We argued that because of the circumstances, you needed us around, but the hospital only allowed for Gizmoduck and Darkwing, not us,” Huey added. “And they left this morning to get some sleep.”  
  
A feeling like ice slid down her spine. “Are you saying I’m unguarded?”  
  
“You’re not,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Or are you forgetting I’m a former SHUSH agent? And Darkwing Duck is a buffoon.”  
  
Webby attempted a smile that fell flat.  
  
Louie pulled out his phone to check up on one of the con games that Dewey had mentioned and Lena flopped into the couch opposite Webby. Scrooge frowned.  
  
“We seem to be stretching the hospital’s guest limit.”  
  
Webby saw he was right. Between the triplets, him, her granny, and Lena, they were a few people too many for ICU. Possibly no one had alerted them to that because he was Scrooge McDuck and people feared offending him. Still, the room was rather crowded with all those people. She was loath to ask people to leave. Part of her feared they’d never return.  
  
“I’m staying,” Dewey said, stubborn.  
  
“As am I,” Mrs. Beakley added.  
  
Scrooge studied Webby for a minute. “Aye, then I’ll stay too.”  
  
“None of us are going unless they kick us out,” Lena said and that seemed to settle things. Everyone went back to jostling for space on the couch or otherwise looking for places to stand or sit. Dewey tucked Webby’s hair back.  
  
“Are you sure Steelbeak’s locked up securely?” she asked, knowing she was being pathetic but not caring.  
  
“Oh, aye,” Scrooge confirmed. “I’d like to see FOWL break him out of me Money Bin.”

* * *

  
  
At that moment, FOWL agents were having a hell of a time confirming that Steelbeak was in the Money Bin, let alone where he might be. Conventional scans yielded nothing. The building was impermeable and it looked like Steelbeak might be stuck there until they could figure out how to sneak in. That might take longer than expected.  
  
Meanwhile, Black Heron had set up a small webcam last night in Webby’s hospital room. During the twilight hours, in which she was finally left alone and Gizmoduck had passed out in the hallway, she’d bribed an orderly to sneak a camera in. She didn’t dare do it herself, not yet. From here, she could get information on Webby’s current state and whether it’d be safe, in a day or two, to sneak back in and finish the job.  
  
To her consternation, Webby seemed to have suffered no ill effects from her near strangulation. Well, aside from emotional distress, but Heron waved that off. While she enjoyed seeing Webby despondent, that wasn’t the main point.  
  
There was, however, another problem. Steelbeak was incarcerated, but he had spies everywhere too. And a dead heron had found its way to Magica’s hideout. The message was clear if a bit gauche. She had bitten off more than she could chew and Steelbeak had found out about it.  
  
Normally, she might have been able to brush it off, but she was jittery now. She didn’t like hiding in Magica’s lair and waiting for action. Magica had gone out and left Heron to her own devices. She needed to find out where Steelbeak was and prevent him from escaping and coming after her. But how?  
  
Magica had no interest in tangling with Steelbeak. Therefore, it behooved Heron to figure a way out of this mess and quickly. Begging for forgiveness was out of the question. Even if Steelbeak believed her, which she doubted, she’d transgressed too far for a simple apology.  
  
She watched Webby alone in her hospital room again. It was nearing midnight and her grandmother had stepped out to perform guard duty while they awaited Darkwing and Gizmoduck. The two had been at loggerheads earlier, which had amused Heron slightly. Apparently, Darkwing’s ego meant he didn’t like sharing the spotlight, even on guard duty. Perhaps especially on guard duty.  
  
She could use that to her advantage, provided she didn’t fail at it like Steelbeak had. No, she’d have to be subtler than that. He’d been foolish enough to think he could walk right in there and the world would bow at his feet. She sneered at his sheer arrogance.  
  
Frowning, she cocked her head at the webcam. If she came in there now via the window, she’d have to scale the building. That was do-able. She might be able to suffocate Webby. With her dead, she’d have one less enemy on her back. Two enemies were not such great odds, but it was better than three.  
  
Her mind made up, she headed out of the apartment. While she could hire the Beagle Boys for this and hope they didn’t bungle it, she preferred the personal touch. Besides, the Beagle Boys were in for petty larceny. They wouldn’t stoop to killing children. Black Heron, by contrast, had no such compunctions.  
  
As she moved through Duckburg, she noted the heightened police activity. This could be problematic. Everywhere she went, she had to slink through the shadows like a common criminal. Much of Duckburg’s usual nighttime activities were curtailed and she knew she’d look suspicious wandering about on her own. Magica could travel using the shadows if she chose, but Black Heron had no such option. It would be wiser to return to the flat and try again. Wiser, perhaps, but unacceptable. She’d rather risk capture and achieve her goal than sit up there and twiddle her thumbs.  
  
Police presence bulked up considerably the closer Black Heron drew to the bridge leading to the Money Bin. That must’ve been where Steelbeak was. For a few seconds, she contemplated going down there, but the odds were good she’d be shot on sight. No, if she intended to reach the Money Bin, she’d need to travel there underground. There were underground passageways if she recalled correctly. Unfortunately, she thought they might be linked to McDuck Manor. If she wasn’t getting into the Money Bin, there was no chance in hell she’d survive breaking into McDuck Manor.  
  
“Hold it right there,” Gizmoduck snapped and Black Heron froze, pivoting and spraying noxious gas at his face. His visor went down to shield him from the worst of it and an extended arm reached out for her. She jumped out of the way and hissed, switching her arm’s weapon to a positron laser. It was Gizmoduck’s turn to dance out of the way.  
  
“You were supposed to be at the hospital,” Heron growled.  
  
“I had a hunch you might’ve been spying on us,” Gizmoduck answered. He produced the webcam she had installed and smashed it under his wheel. “Nice try.”  
  
Black Heron cursed and Gizmoduck stared, unimpressed.  
  
“I’d ask if you kissed your mother with that mouth, but I’m pretty sure you killed her.”  
  
“You’d be right,” Heron sneered. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to let me get near Webbigail, are you?”  
  
“Not a chance.”  
  
Since the paralytic agent hadn’t worked, thanks to the suit, she shot at him. He was faster than her, albeit less experienced with fights. When his arm swept to knock her over, she ducked beneath it and then punched his face, as it was the only vulnerable, exposed part of his body. The helmet and visor lowered so that she only caught his mouth. After the blow, she didn’t move fast enough and this time, his arm connected, crushing her in a bear hug that took her breath away.  
  
“Two down, one to go,” Gizmoduck said cheerily and she spat in his face. She searched the suit for a release button and then smirked, recalling that stupid catchphrase.  
  
“Blathering Blatherskite!” she called and the suit dumped him out only to put her in.  
  
“No, it’s not...it’s not supposed to do that! I thought we had that fixed!” Gizmoduck said angrily. Or, rather, whoever he was without the costume. She snickered. Now she had the upper hand.  
  
“You thought wrong,” she said and then smiled, leaning in toward him while attired in his battle suit. “Now, any last words?”  
  
“Blathering--” he started and she cuffed him on the back of the head.  
  
“Ugh, I should have known he was going to say that,” she said, shaking her head. She cast aside the armor and aimed her positron laser at him. “Oh, well. You’ll have to say hello to Webbigail for me after I kill her.”  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. The first time I wrote this chapter, although Fenton did get back the suit, I killed off Black Heron (that was Steelbeak's work, not Gizmoduck's). I thought that was a little too pat and that the chapter had moved too quickly, so I ended up rewriting it.

She hated being alone in the hospital at night. For one thing, the hospital was never truly quiet. Down the hall, she heard machines beeping and people moaning. For another, she felt terribly vulnerable, especially with the door wide open. She wasn’t supposed to close it and her gaze drifted to the couch opposite her bed. Her grandmother had gone home, only for a little while she’d promised, and she had mixed feelings about that. At least she was due to leave the hospital soon. The chances of her being stuck in here again courtesy of Black Heron seemed remote.  
  
A head poked its way into her room and she startled, reaching for weapons she no longer had. The hospital wouldn’t have allowed her to keep them anyway. It was a force of habit.  
  
“Hey,” Dewey said gently. “You’re not going to throw your water pitcher at me, are you?”  
  
She glanced over at the table beside her with the plastic water pitcher. To her consternation, when she looked back up, she saw that his brothers were with him. Confused, she glanced at Huey and Louie in turn. What were they doing here?  
  
“Nah, it wouldn’t even make a dent in that hard head,” Huey said and popped inside, along with his brothers. “How are you feeling?”  
  
She glanced at the clock on her monitor. It was one in the morning. “What are you guys doing here?”  
  
“Mrs. B fell asleep, so, we, uh, ‘borrowed’ Launchpad,” Louie said. “It’s cool. They won’t even notice we’re missing.”  
  
Webby gave him a look and Louie huffed.  
  
“What? It’s not like we bribed him or stole the limo ourselves,” he objected. “This is relatively benign.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. After being raised in a den of criminals, such minor misbehavior hardly registered. “That wasn’t it. I’m wondering why you’re all here. You didn’t answer me.”  
  
“We thought maybe we could get to know you,” Huey said.  
  
“At one in the morning,” she replied flatly.  
  
“That and Lena dared us to sneak out and one of my Junior Woodchuck Badges involves being able to sneak out without a sound,” Huey said and then paused. “Wait a minute. That doesn’t make sense. Louie!”  
  
“Ha, and you think I’m duped easily,” Dewey said smugly.  
  
“You know, one of these days, you’ll realize that Lena and I make a perfect team,” Louie said. “Just two con men out to make our mark on the world.”  
  
“Yeah, great,” Huey muttered, clearly affronted that his brother had pulled a fast one on him. He sat on the couch opposite Webby’s bed and Louie took the end seat. Dewey was already in the seat near Webby and Webby reached out to intertwine their fingers. She was amused by the situation, but it paled in comparison to her fear that something was amiss. As far as she knew, Black Heron remained at large, even if Steelbeak was now safely contained.  
  
“No news on Black Heron, is there?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Nope,” Dewey said and then stroked her face with the back of his hand. “Hey. They’ll find her. Don’t worry.”  
  
She scowled, not in the mood for false placation and platitudes. She jerked her hand away from his. “I’m not worried about whether they find her so much as who finds her and whether she opts to kill them first and ask questions later.”  
  
“Just how many people has Black Heron killed?” Huey asked in a would-be casual voice. His hands were shaking, which gave the lie to his tone.  
  
“I don’t know. She’s never said. She’s not like Steelbeak, boasting about his record.” She shivered and although Dewey again reached for her, she kept her hand out of his reach. She couldn’t go very far, confined as she was to the bed, but he got the hint and desisted.  
  
“Gizmoduck can defeat her,” Huey said with more confidence than she felt. “He can beat anybody.”  
  
“If his suit doesn’t malfunction,” Louie said, not looking up from his phone.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Huey snapped, irritation underlying his words. “Gizmoduck can totally handle himself. He’s been using that suit for four years now.”  
  
“Just because you hero worship someone doesn’t make them bigger than life,” Louie countered.  
  
“You hero-worship Uncle Scrooge,” Huey pointed out.  
  
“That’s because he’s a trillionaire and he knows what he’s doing,” Louie said.  
  
“And you’re saying Gizmoduck doesn’t,” Huey objected.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge has been at the money game a lot longer than Gizmoduck’s been playing the superhero,” Louie said. “It’s a fact of life. And you know that suit still has bugs.”  
  
Huey’s expression shifted, his brow wrinkling in consternation. His eyes were troubled. “Despite what Gyro’s been doing…”  
  
“Heron will only kill him if he gets in the way of what she wants,” Weby interjected and then shuddered. Since that was her, she wasn’t real keen on Gizmoduck losing. And hearing that the suit might have malfunctions didn’t exactly instill her with a lot of confidence. She frowned at the boys.  
  
“It’ll all work out,” Dewey said softly, trying to bring her attention back to him. “You’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Webs.”  
  
Webby glared at him. “I shouldn’t worry about my lifelong nemesis being out for my blood while I’m stuck in a hospital room recovering from the last time she almost killed me?”  
  
“When you put it that way…” Dewey said, faltering.  
  
“Or is this like your selfie experiment, where nothing will happen because you’re too naive to think otherwise?” she shot back.  
  
“Oh, fine, throw that in my face,” Dewey huffed.  
  
“Uh, guys? Yelling at each other isn’t going to help,” Huey said.  
  
“Aw, it’s their first lovers’ quarrel,” Louie said. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “That’s one for the scrapbooks.”  
  
“You’re not helping,” Huey snapped at his younger brother.  
  
“What do you want me to do? Tell Webby that she’s misplacing her anger and tell Dewey to stop being a tool?” Louie responded.  
  
“I’m not a tool,” Dewey huffed, glaring at his younger brother.  
  
Webby drew a deep breath to steel herself and then glared at Louie too. His intuition was a little too keen for her liking. He met her gaze and she found herself wishing, albeit briefly, that she had hit him harder last time. Then guilt niggled at her. The Duck boys were innocent, relatively speaking. They didn’t have her background. They’d gotten to be children.  
  
“I’m frustrated, okay?” she huffed. “I don’t know why they’re still keeping me under observation.”  
  
“You were in a coma,” Dewey objected. “Black Heron strangled you and you almost died. I don’t blame them for wanting to keep an eye on you. I want to keep an eye on you.”  
  
Webby folded her arms across her chest. She almost wished her grandmother were here, oddly. Though she still didn’t quite derive comfort from her granny the way she did from Dewey and Lena, she could’ve used the calming influence. Huey was split between keeping the peace and freaking out over Gizmoduck possibly losing a fight. Louie was calculating the odds and Dewey, Dewey was trying to hold her together with Scotch tape and crazy glue. It wasn’t working.  
  
“I know I can’t protect you from the people who want to hurt you,” Dewey said. “And I know that you’re way stronger than me and better equipped to handle them since you’ve been doing it your whole life. I know all that. But I still want to. I hate that you got hurt and I hate that the person who did it is still at large, okay? I hate that you’re stuck in this hospital room too. It feels like I barely got to enjoy your living in the mansion before you got sucked away by FOWL again.”  
  
She studied him and gave him a humorless smile. “Did you really think FOWL would let me go without a fight?”  
  
“They already had a fight when they tunneled beneath the manor,” Louie objected. “They know they’re outnumbered and outclassed. It doesn’t matter to them.”  
  
She was a prize to be won, he meant. Therefore, it didn’t matter how many defenders she had or how they arrayed themselves about her. If Steelbeak and Black Heron wanted her, they would move heaven and earth to reach her. Or, perhaps more accurately, hell and earth.  
  
“I can’t physically protect you. At least let me think I’m doing something to help,” Dewey protested. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got your back.”  
  
“Do you?” she asked, looking at his brothers and then back at him. “All of you?”  
  
“Yes, all of us,” Huey said, sounding slightly annoyed she’d even questioned it.  
  
“I’m not as gung-ho about you as my brother is,” Louie said and then added, “Not that that’s a bad thing. But...I have your back too. You’re Lena’s friend, sort of, which makes you mine too. And if Dewey cares about you, then I guess I have to too.”  
  
It wasn’t the most reassuring of speeches, but it was honest. She appreciated that. All too often, growing up, she’d encountered pathological liars who would tell you anything, regardless of the truth staring them right in the face, because they literally could not be bothered to tell the truth about anything. It was impossible for them to stop fibbing.  
  
She supposed she’d have to accept their declarations for what they were and move past that. It wouldn’t help to brood and she wasn’t alone anymore. She’d only be tempted to brood if she were stuck here by herself and vulnerable. True, she remained vulnerable, but at least there were three people here who could sound the alarm if things got truly bad.  
  
“How long are you staying?” she asked.  
  
“Don’t know,” Huey said. He frowned at Louie. “Think Launchpad fell asleep?”  
  
“Watching Darkwing Duck again? That’s almost a guarantee,” Louie said with a groan. “We’re gonna have to lay low if someone comes in to check your vitals, Webs, but we’ll still be here. I guess we can hide in your bathroom.”  
  
“You could always wake Launchpad up and be on your way,” she pointed out.  
  
“We’ll stay,” Huey said. “But I can’t help but feel like something’s going on that we should know about…”  
  
\-----

* * *

  
She could kill him. In fact, it’d be rather simple. She had him at her mercy and though he had dodged her last shot, there was no telling how long he could dance about the issue. Sooner or later, she’d wear him down. After all, she had the suit and he had nothing.  
  
“Thankfully, Doctor Gearloose and I planned for this contingency,” Fenton said and, if a visored face could convey skepticism, hers did. She lowered her head and stared at him.  
  
“Really.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.  
  
“I mean, after the Shadow Wars, we kind of had to. Then again, the Shadow Wars were a long time ago and...I’m rambling, aren’t I?” he said and she could almost see sweat trickling down his collar. “Sorry. I do that when I get nervous.”  
  
“I’m holding a gun on you,” she said. “Whyever would you be nervous?”  
  
“Right, well, good point,” he said and cringed. “Operation Blathering Blatherskite Emergency Situation 48 Commence!”  
  
The suit fell apart around her. Black Heron blinked and, before she had a chance to speak, he tackled her around the middle. If he hadn’t had the element of surprise, he never would have pulled one over on her. Irritated at herself for having fallen for that, she raised her arm with its glowing positron laser at his face and he slammed it down.  
  
“I also taught myself how to fight in addition to using the Gizmoduck suit,” he informed her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Had she really needed to know that? She thought not.  
  
Glowering at him, she prepared to fire and he wrenched her arm back. Seeing as it was mechanical, the movement didn’t hurt, but it did put a sizeable hole in the ground nearby and left her ears ringing. Blinking away the afterimage, her next impression was of Gizmoduck hauling her up and then slapping handcuffs around her wrists. He couldn’t figure out how to disable her laser, so he wrenched it off her back and apologized all the while. Did he think it hurt her? Strange duck.  
  
She huffed, unable to hear herself, and her impression of reality faded.

 

  
  
When her senses returned to her, she found herself in the same cell as Steelbeak. The FOWL head glowered at her and his hatred ripped through her. He’d found out what she’d done, then. Gizmoduck was nowhere to be seen, not that she would have appealed to him for help. Someone had tied Steelbeak’s hands behind his back, which meant he had to eat like a normal chicken and peck at his food. The indignity of what he must suffer would have amused her if he wasn’t looking at her with murder in his eyes.  
  
“You tried to kill my daughter,” he growled.  
  
“You didn’t stop me the last few times,” she scoffed. “I’m starting to think your attachment to her is exaggerated.”  
  
Steelbeak lunged out, trying to kick her, but his feet were shackled. She didn’t know how she was going to eat, as she could barely walk and she only had one arm. Gizmoduck must have stripped her of her false one. Why not amputate Steelbeak’s cybernetic features while he was at it? Not that she would have liked to have seen Steelbeak like that, but if they were both to be humiliated…  
  
A speaker in the corner drew their attention.  
  
“Oy,” Scrooge McDuck said. “Don’t get any ideas in there. I have cameras everywhere.”  
  
“And in case you still think you have a chance,” Mrs. Beakley said coldly, “you don’t. If either of you gets within ten feet of Webbigail ever again, that cell will be the least of your worries.”  
  
“22!” Scrooge scolded.  
  
“I promised Webby,” 22 said, obstinate. “And I mean to keep that promise. After everything they’ve done to her…”  
  
She growled.  
  
“Pity you couldn’t protect her from me, then, huh?” Steelbeak said, directing his attention toward the speaker. They couldn’t see the cameras, but Black Heron had no reason to doubt that they were there. It would be unlike Scrooge McDuck not to be neurotic about valuables. She didn’t know where they were, but she could hazard a guess. It had to be the most locked down area in Duckburg with the most security. And where else could that be but his Money Bin?  
  
“It’s a pity I couldn’t finish the job,” Heron taunted. “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”  
  
Steelbeak’s gaze shot to her and he barreled into her, seeing as he had no limbs with which to hit her. He knocked her into the wall and atop the bunk opposite his. There was nothing to appeal to in that gaze. It was feral and malicious. It promised death and not a quick one at that.  
  
“Oy! I just said no funny business!” Scrooge said. Steelbeak ignored him.  
  
“By the time they get down here, it’ll be too late,” Steelbeak growled. “I don’t need my hands to kill you, Heron. You crossed the line. Even if I don’t kill you now, know that death is coming. You do not fuck with Webbigail.”  
  
She wanted to be snide about it, but he was pinning her against the cot. Her heart hammered in her ribcage and she tasted fear in the back of her throat. She was shaking, she realized, and he noticed it. He sneered.  
  
He stepped back and smiled.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Money Bags,” he crooned at the camera. “I’m not gonna hurt her just yet.”  
  
He wanted her to live with the knowledge she was doomed. He wanted her to spend every minute waiting for something to happen. And when she let her guard down, he’d strike.  
  
“We should probably put them in separate cells, 22,” Scrooge said.  
  
“And miss the entertainment?” Mrs. Beakley said.  
  
“You cannae be condoning murder, Beakley!” he objected. “We are supposed to be the good guys!”  
  
“Oh, fine,” Mrs. Beakley conceded, sounding irritated. “We’ll put them in separate cells. Damn you.”  
  
The speaker went off and she assumed that the two had shut it to converse in private. Black Heron knew a change in venue would alter nothing. She had sealed her fate by nearly murdering Webbigail. The rest was just window dressing.  
  


* * *

  
  
She didn’t care if it appealed to her darker nature. She wanted Black Heron dead worse than she ever had before. Her loathing was so strong that it burned within her. After all, she’d just gotten her granddaughter back from FOWL in time for her to end up in the hospital thanks to FOWL’s ministrations. She had no outlet for her rage and although she’d capitulated to her employer’s desires, she wasn’t satisfied.  
  
She attacked the house with a vengeance; perhaps excessive and angry cleaning would help remedy the problem. But it didn’t. The house was already spotless and with Duckworth absent to snipe at, she had no one. If she wasn’t careful, she’d head down to the Money Bin and kill Black Heron herself.  
  
But Mr. McDuck was right. They were supposed to be the good guys. She was on SHUSH’s side, not FOWL’s. But she ached from the injustice of it. She ached from not holding her granddaughter and she ached knowing that Webby was conflicted still, that the poison FOWL had dripped into her mind kept her from loving her back.  
  
The time was three in the morning and she found herself searching the house for Launchpad. That she couldn’t find him meant that the boys were up to something. This suspicion was confirmed when she ventured into the garage, where Duckworth never went. (Rumor had it that one of Scrooge’s old limos, possessed by Magica, had tried to eat him and he’d feared it ever since). The limo was missing.  
  
“Do you know what your nephews are up to?” she snapped when she re-entered the manor and found Scrooge unable to sleep. He was staring at the security footage as Gizmoduck wrenched Black Heron away and brought her to another cell. There were only five total down there and if they encountered any further villains, they might run out of space. She wasn’t sure why the cells existed at all, to be honest. But now was not the time to question that.  
  
“I expect they’re sleeping,” he said. He was idly playing with some of his coins, stacking them and then knocking them over. He sat at his desk with his phone off to the left and stared ahead blankly.  
  
“They are not sleeping!” she snapped. “They commandeered Launchpad and I don’t know where they went!”  
  
He looked up and their gazes met. They sighed in unison.  
  
“Lena,” they huffed.  
  
They found Lena unable to sleep either. Her expression was haunted and she felt guilty for this. Heaven knew that the girl didn’t sleep well as it was. Magica’s cruelty lingered, even if the woman herself hadn’t touched her in years.  
  
“Oh. You’re probably wondering where the boys are,” Lena said. She was staring at Tumblr on her phone. Though she was in bed, the lights were on and she showed no signs of attempting slumber. Perhaps she knew it was futile.  
  
“That did cross my mind, yes,” Mrs. Beakley snapped and Lena looked up at her. A mask settled over her features.  
  
“They’re at the hospital with Webby,” she said, returning to look at her phone. “Thought you would’ve figured that out, Abbey Road.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley bristled and then willed herself to relax. Lena was riling her up to get a reaction out of her. Either the girl wanted the fight or she wanted a distraction from her own pain. Mrs. Beakley bet it was the latter.  
  
“Then we’ll go to the hospital,” Scrooge said. “I’ll drive.”  
  
“You’re coming, young lady,” Mrs. Beakley informed her and Lena shrugged, nonchalant.  
  
“It wasn’t like I was doing anything, anyway,” she said. She was scanning Mrs. Beakley intently. “Did something happen?”  
  
“Black Heron and Steelbeak are now in custody,” Scrooge informed her.  
  
“Then why does the English Patient look like she’s swallowed cyanide?” Lena asked.  
  
“Because she dinnae like that I separated them,” Scrooge replied.  
  
Understanding passed over Lena’s face and, with it, the mask slipped. She understood the darkness all too well. After all, she’d dwelt in it. After a moment, she tossed aside the sheets and stood up.  
  
“Sorry,” she said to Mrs. Beakley.  
  
“It’s quite all right,” Mrs. Beakley said, knowing that her ire was for the situation and not for the teenager. “Come along, Lena.”  
  
Lena nodded, looking thoughtful. Her thoughts, perhaps, ran in the same direction as Mrs. Beakley’s. This seemed more like a reprieve, the calm before the storm before the storm itself broke over them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series will end abruptly and I'm sorry--at the time, I was struggling with it and didn't know where to go. I felt like it was getting long in the tooth.
> 
> But, good news, the next series will be out in a few weeks. And after that...that's the end of this particular universe until I finish another fanfic. XD

Steelbeak paced back and forth in his cell. He wished they hadn’t removed Black Heron from his cell, although he had come close to killing her. At least murdering her would’ve provided brief entertainment. After all the time he spent in lock-up, one would think that he’d have created a way to amuse himself. Then again, he wasn’t normally in solitary with only Gizmoduck. And Gizmoduck refused to talk to him.

 

He might have capitulated anyway if Gyro Gearloose hadn’t come down to chastise his intern. Fenton’s obsequiousness rubbed him the wrong way. Steelbeak growled and Gyro put a white noise machine maker on to prevent them from hearing him. Infuriated, he kicked the wall. This was Webby’s fault. If she hadn’t chosen wrong, he wouldn’t be here.

 

He ought to give up on this. It wasn’t helping anyone and now he was facing trial for kidnapping, child endangerment, child abuse, etc. Technically, he’d never hurt Webby, not much more than warning squeezes, nothing like what Black Heron had done, but SHUSH didn’t see it that way. What a surprise--SHUSH never saw things properly.

 

Asking the Eggheads to reach him down here was taking time, but he knew they were making progress. The Beagle Boys were providing a distraction up above, in the Money Bin. The only problem was that Dewey, Lena, and Agent 22 would be too well protected. What he ought to do was cut his loses, return to running FOWL, and wait for their guards to go down. Assuming that happened. Agent 22 had a long memory and he knew she loathed him. Every time she looked at Webby, she would remember what he and Black Heron had done to her granddaughter. It gave Steelbeak a perverse sense of satisfaction.

 

Closing his eyes, he pictured a world in which Webby was alone again, this time with everyone she cared about dead by his hand. His eyes flew open. Though Gizmoduck had been thorough in searching him, he hadn’t confiscated a communication device that Steelbeak had secreted about his person. You’d think the son of a police officer would’ve been more careful.

 

He was in a rut. The brats were too well protected. He’d gotten lucky procuring Webby. Mrs. Beakley hadn’t anticipated it. Now she would suspect, as would Scrooge. He cursed to himself.

 

But he could feel Webby slipping through his fingers. She belonged to him, as her mother had before her. What he needed was a foolproof plan to succeed. If he failed, he’d never see the light of day again. Agent 22 would ensure that. And if he did this, he’d need someone who couldn’t be traced back to him, or, at least, someone who could grab Webby too. Kill two birds with one stone.

 

Perhaps he ought to bide his time with this one. Yes, that would work. He’d sit and wait for his chance.

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks passed. Webby had been back in the manor for two of them and not knowing what Steelbeak was up to made her antsy. According to the police, who had been recruited to keep an eye on FOWL’s most wanted criminal, Steelbeak was a model prisoner. That was almost more unsettling than his being imprisoned in the Money Bin. Almost.

 

She was forbidden to visit him there. Unlike her escapade with the book, this particular rule was strictly enforced. Any time the cameras so much as caught a whiff of her near his cell, klaxons blared out and she was apprehended. Sending someone on her behalf didn’t work either. No one other than Scrooge McDuck and Mrs. Beakley was allowed to enter.

 

Other than being apprehensive of FOWL’s machinations, she was living an almost normal life. It was odd, too, because she thought she could get used to this. While the triplets fighting was alarming, they never tried to hurt each other, not seriously. They’d gone on a few more adventures, too, which were harrowing and life-threatening, but also, somehow, enjoyable? Thankfully, Dewey had never repeated his selfie stunt and although she hadn’t forgotten about it, she wasn’t as sore as she had been.

 

She’d stopped locking her door, though she did leave it closed more often than not. Della was trying to draw her into family time with them, including Family Game Night, which was far more alarming than the name suggested. It seemed Scrooge took Family Game Night way too seriously and if it hadn’t been for Gyro bursting in and announcing something, she wasn’t sure what would’ve happened.

 

At present, she was perusing a book she’d taken from the Money Bin. She was allowed in the Bin, so long as she didn’t venture below ground. That meant all of her excursions were well documented; if she chafed at the monitoring, she at least had the satisfaction of knowing she had more mobility than her father.

 

Her memories of before FOWL had abducted her were trickling in too. They remained vague and annoyingly out of reach, but she had impressions, which was more than she’d had before. She could remember her five-year-old self well enough to know she had loved her grandmother once. Unfortunately, that only left her more unsettled.

 

Dewey and his brothers were playing a video game, Lena was reading a book on the bed beside her, and things were mostly quiet at McDuck Manor. Every once in a while, Webby heard the boys exclaim in dismay or cheer and it brought a smile to her face.

 

That was another thing. Smiling had come more easily lately. Before, she’d seldom smiled and almost never laughed. Now, however, she was startled into it. She felt, if not happy, something very close to it. She turned a page and then jumped when Huey cursed. Lena looked up too.

 

“What was so bad that Huey’s the one cursing?” Webby said.

 

“Ten to one that Louie cheated,” Lena said with a smile. “Wanna go bug them about it?”

 

“Did you even have to ask?” Webby said with an answering smile. They put their books down and headed into the adjoining room, where Huey’s Overwatch character was lying on the ground with blood around him. Louie’s character, by contrast, was hunting Dewey’s and if the evil triplet had a wicked grin on his face, it almost seemed to be mirrored by his persona. Huey huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“He pulled this trick out of nowhere that isn’t in the rule books, isn’t in the player’s guide, and he glitched the game,” Huey groused as the girls entered. “He exploited a weakness in the game’s code.”

 

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it,” Louie said smugly.

 

“Hey!” Dewey exclaimed. “How did I just die?”

 

Louie put down his controller and pretended to blow off a smoking gun. His brothers glared at him and he affected an innocent look that fooled no one.

 

“You could kiss it and make it all better,” Louie teased Webby and she blew him a raspberry in response. It was such a normal thing to do that for a few seconds, she floundered. Her life had been measured by the strangest occurrences, not by the mundane. She almost didn’t know what to do with herself.

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she frowned. Everyone who wanted to contact her was either in the manor or nearby. The only other person who had her phone number that she could think of was incarcerated. He wouldn’t be calling her.

 

Maybe it was a spam call. Except...Scrooge and Gyro would’ve ensured her phone number was restricted. With a strange sense of foreboding, she brought the phone to her ear.

 

“Hello?” she said and the boys stopped arguing to look at her. Lena frowned. Webby almost never took phone calls; usually, if Dewey was desperate enough, he’d call her. Otherwise, though, she did everything through text. She was getting better at that, too, and not fumbling as much. She’d probably never be as adroit as the boys and Lena were, but it was a start.

 

“Hello, Webbigail,” a voice she hadn’t heard in years said and chills went down her spine. It wasn’t Steelbeak. It was Taurus Bulba. Before Darkwing Duck (and Gosalyn) had defeated him, he had been the FOWL head honcho. The last time she’d seen him, as a little girl after being kidnapped, she’d wet herself in terror. His cybernetic features, more so than her father’s, had petrified her. The cruelty that gleamed in his red eyes threatened torture or worse. There was no mitigation to his evil the way there was with Steelbeak or even Black Heron. They sometimes had a dark sense of humor or a tendency to listen to themselves talk.

 

Taurus Bulba didn’t. Then again, from what she recalled, Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn had destroyed him. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

 

The only way he could’ve gotten her number was from Steelbeak. She did not like what this implied. Magica was no longer working with Black Heron. But could Steelbeak have recruited Taurus Bulba?

 

Why warn her, if that was the case? Or was something else at play here?

 

“Webby? Are you okay?” Dewey asked.

 

“You will leave the room,” Taurus Bulba instructed her. “You will not let the others be privy to this.”

 

Feeling like she’d gone onto autopilot, she walked out of the room. Her blood was running cold and her hand shook as it held the phone. The mask had slipped over her features again, but she sensed it was too late. Dewey and Lena had left the room and, a minute later, Louie and Huey did too.

 

“What’s going on?” Huey asked.

 

“I told you to leave the room, yet I still hear voices. I see you have difficulty following instructions. No doubt your father was lax about your training.”

 

Webby’s throat had closed up in terror. She sank to her knees. Surely she would have been beyond FOWL’s attention now. They had more important things to worry about than her going rogue. Her beak quivered and Dewey sank down beside her. She waved him off, but something in her eyes must’ve drawn him in, regardless, because he refused to leave.

 

“Put me on speakerphone, since you insist on being disobedient,” he commanded and, fumbling with the phone, she dropped it before hitting speaker. His voice, cold and cruel, filled the air and she whimpered.

 

“You are correct if you believe that Steelbeak recruited me. However, you are sadly mistaken if you think I harbor any of the same sentimentality toward you. Your associates will be killed and you will be brought to heel, Webbigail. By the end of our ‘discussion’, you will be begging for mercy.”

 

He sneered. “Mercy, unfortunately, is in short supply.

 

“As far as I am concerned, you are a traitor to FOWL. Steelbeak may want you alive as you are his daughter...but I have no such restraints. I will find you, Webbigail Vanderquack. And I will kill you. I will not fail as Black Heron has.”

 

The phone line went dead, Taurus Bulba having delivered his ultimatum, and Webby was too weak to stand. Dewey was shaking her and saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. The words blended into nothing and she stared blankly ahead. Her whole body was shaking now, her beak chattering.

 

“Who was that?” Huey asked and his voice sounded tinny despite his standing right next to her.

 

“Taurus Bulba…” she breathed. She looked up when her grandmother spoke.

 

“Taurus Bulba, former head of FOWL before Steelbeak supplanted him. He used to be SHUSH’s number one enemy. Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn Mallard had put him down before, but it doesn’t appear to have stuck. In their first encounter, Bulba nearly perished in an explosion and, as a result, is now mostly cybernetic,” Mrs. Beakley said.

 

“He left FOWL…” Webby whispered. “He blew up their labs. He shouldn’t…”

 

“You know him?” Huey asked, incredulous. Webby nodded, feeling like a puppet on a string.

 

“He’s a legend,” she whispered. “The only weakness he has is that he wasn’t built with a proper processing fan and he overheats like a computer. But that was years ago…”

 

Five years ago, which was ancient in terms of computer time. They could have easily surmounted that problem by now. She shuddered uncontrollably and Dewey hugged her.

 

“He shouldn’t want anything to do with FOWL,” Mrs. Beakley said, kneeling at her granddaughter’s side. “And he’s not going to get a hold of you either.”

 

“Steelbeak sent him…”

 

She met her grandmother’s gaze and tried not to despair. Black Heron had frightened her as a little girl, but Taurus Bulba was the only one she could recall who had genuinely terrified her. Just seeing him once had given her nightmares for weeks, something Black Heron was quick to capitalize on.

 

“I think we need to have another meeting with Ludwig von Drake,” her grandmother decided. “You, me, Darkwing, and Gosalyn.”

 

Webby grimaced. Gosalyn disliked her. Or perhaps it’d been a mood the redheaded girl was in. Webby wasn’t sure. Then again, if Gosalyn had helped defeat Bulba, that meant she had valuable information. She ought to at least consider seeing her.

 

After a moment, she nodded. She still didn’t trust herself to get up off the floor.

 

“Do you need help?” Huey asked.

 

“I’m good…” she said and Dewey hefted her to her feet, where she proceeded to fall over again. “Sorry.”

 

“Bulba is more competent than Steelbeak. Not to mention Steelbeak is afraid of him,” Webby said faintly. “What makes you think that we stand a chance?”

 

“It happened before. It’ll happen again,” Mrs. Beakley said implacably.

 

Webby’s beak twitched. What was the saying? Lightning never strikes twice? It sure felt like that.

 

* * *

 

As far as Taurus Bulba was concerned, Darkwing defeating him the last time had been a stroke of luck. Bad luck in Bulba’s case, good luck in Darkwing’s. That wouldn’t happen again. He wanted Darkwing and Gosalyn dead, but he would settle for Webbigail. For starters.

 

Not that he wanted to do FOWL’s dirty work for him. But sometimes, a traitor needed to be apprehended. (He didn’t think that he owed FOWL anything, even if they had resurrected him). Besides, Webbigail was about Gosalyn’s age. Killing her would strike fear in his main opponent.

 

And his circuitry was superior to what it had been five years ago. He almost never overheated now.

 

Hmm...maybe if he killed Steelbeak, Webbigail would get the message clearer. There were quite a few people on his list, come to think of it. And he’d been lax in getting to them. They might have even though they were off the hook. And he could never permit someone to think he was letting them live.

 

As he had told Webbigail, he had no mercy. And no intention of developing a conscience. They were noisome things anyway. As were children.

 

His cybernetic fingers itched to wrap them about Gosalyn’s throat. Webbigail would do...for starters.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that abrupt ending I warned you about? It's here. XD
> 
> Next series will be up next week. That is also finished. Once that's done, I have no intention of continuing this universe, not with all of the writing stuff I've got on my plate.

Ascertaining Webby’s current location was easy. As for McDuck Manor’s security system, he scoffed. He tore it apart like a cat batting a mouse. The magical wards were a trifle more difficult. Though he was sure they were paltry, he had no experience with magic. Some people might have said that his cyber tech precluded magic. Whatever it was, it made his skin itch and although he could physically walk up to the manor, he could not enter. A magical shimmer repelled him and when he persisted, his body froze up and he regained consciousness a minute later.

 

It was bothersome. He also had no intention of teaming up with Magica de Spell to neutralize this. As far as he was concerned, she had had her chance and she had ruined it. No, he would force Lena out to remove the obstacle. Since the shield only prevented egress by unwanted individuals, it did not prevent him from firing onto the house from a distance. It was clearly the weakest of their defenses and once it fell, Webbigail Vanderquack would be his.

 

He didn’t intend to kill her right away. While he thought that what she had done merited death, he wanted to prolong her pain. He would kill the boy first, as innocent children in peril amused him. At least, it had amused him until he recalled how Gosalyn Mallard and Honker Muddlefoot had evaded him. Then he snarled, smoke issuing from his nostrils, and his urge to kill mounted. He swallowed back rage with difficulty.

 

Aiming for a tower window, he blasted it until it crumbled. Feh, masonry was no match for his lasers. The shot had exposed the tower’s innards and he glimpsed a red-clad boy struggling to climb back into the tower. Bulba raised his eyebrows. Should he kill him too? He wasn’t part of the assignment--Steelbeak had said only the blue boy and the emo girl. On the other hand, what was a little collateral damage between friends?

 

He blasted the tower room again just as the boy’s brothers heaved him back in. They ducked beneath the shot and although their feathers were singed, nothing of consequence burned. Irritated, he concentrated on bringing the whole tower down. At least, he did until a smoke cloud enveloped him. This only increased his vexation as he blew it away.

 

“Don’t tell me,” he growled. “Darkwing Duck.”

 

He spun about to face the diminutive hero. Although Darkwing was trembling, he stood his ground. Gosalyn was nearby in her Quiverwing outfit. Did the fools really think he wouldn’t have taken the time to run a quick Google search before coming here? His mind was a supercomputer now, after all.

 

“And his little daughter, Gosalyn,” he crooned. “Excellent. You’re all in the same place.”

 

Gosalyn froze. Before she wiped her features clean, he saw the pure terror on her face. Surely he remembered how close she and her father had come to death the first time. Even though she wore a blank look, she was shaking and he advanced on her. Red flashed in the corner of his vision; Darkwing Duck was waving a red cape at him.

 

“I am not a prize bull!” he snapped, but his attention was diverted from Gosalyn. Something clicked on the edge of his hearing and he shifted his head back toward the teenage girl; however, Darkwing’s cape was too distracting and he charged at the duck. He thought Gosalyn might’ve been having a conversation with Webbigail and he smirked.

 

He backhanded Darkwing when he got close enough and sent him flying. Quiverwing held her ground and gulped, eyes huge as she regarded him. A small figure was dashing down the driveway and was followed by her grandmother, the blue child, and an old man. Excellent. Everyone was all there, excepting Lena.

 

Webby skidded to a halt and he smelled her fear. It wasn’t quite as strong as Gosalyn’s, but it was tantalizing all the same. He leveled his lasers at her and Mrs. Beakley flung a projectile that he dodged. However, it hadn’t been aimed at him, per se, but at his lasers. She’d jammed them. No matter.

 

He propelled himself forward and snagged Dewey by the shirt. Dewey struggled out of his clothes and Taurus Bulba cuffed him hard. Webby, Gosalyn, and Darkwing moved in tandem and he swept them all off their feet.

 

“I’ll kill him,” Bulba said conversationally. “He isn’t who I really want dead but I can settle for him for starters.”

 

“You’ll put him down this instant,” Mrs. Beakley said. In response, Bulba studied Dewey’s thin, breakable neck. He could no longer feel the pulse point, but he was sure it was jumping erratically. Dewey swung in his grip and then slipped out entirely, leaving Bulba holding his t-shirt. The cuff had left the boy’s eyes watering and he staggered as he tried to outrun him. Bulba slammed a foot down on Dewey’s chest and pinned him to the ground.

 

“I was instructed to kill him and Lena de Spell,” Bulba said and ignored Dewey struggling beneath him. The other two male ducklings flung themselves at him and, without batting an eye, he threw them off. Gosalyn and Webby exchanged glances and he sneered.

 

“Do you really think you pose a threat to me? You?”

 

The two girls darted this way and that, prompting him to divide his attention. Growling, unable to track both of them at the same time, he glowered at them. On the one hand, Webbigail was a traitor. On the other, Gosalyn Mallard...he hissed. He didn’t know which one to pursue.

 

Magical netting ensnared him and he froze, now incapable of moving regardless. It tightened about his body and Lena de Spell, the fourth object of his fury, shoved him off Dewey. He fell over onto his back and, thanks to all of the gear he sported, couldn’t contort himself back onto his feet. That and the magical net held him immobilized.

 

“Dewey!” Webby cried, rushing to him. Taurus rocked from side to side and he glimpsed terror in Lena’s eyes as well. Lena was not the sorceress her “aunt” was and her fear would be her undoing. Not all of him had been captured, either, and he blasted her with one of his horns. Nothing came out--Agent 22 had disabled it--but the resulting backlash sent him flying backward and snapped the tenuous strings about him. He rose again.

 

“I fail to see why Magica couldn’t have killed you herself,” he sneered at Lena. “You are nothing.”

 

Lena gripped her amulet and closed her eyes, focusing on attacking him again. He didn’t give her a chance. With a powerful backswing, he aimed for breaking one of her ribs. Gosalyn shoved Lena out of the way in time and he sneered, hoisting the redhead up by her cape. Gosalyn swung and he punched her in the face.

 

Gas erupted in his face and by the time his fans had blown it away, something large and heavy had slammed into his back. He could practically feel Darkwing’s fury. The incompetent duck was searching for a switch on his back and Bulba bucked, prompting Darkwing to latch onto his neck and then shove his fingers deep inside his helmet.

 

“Get off!” Bulba roared, pawing the ground.

 

“You hit my daughter,” Darkwing said in a cold voice that Bulba didn’t recognize. It was almost frightening. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Get off!”

 

Whatever had struck him before hit him again and it packed a punch. He dug his heels in to keep his balance and a large metal object slammed across his face. Dazed, he didn’t notice Darkwing finding a trigger switch until the suit abruptly lost power and he crashed into the ground.

 

“They always have a kill switch,” Darkwing said, but he was sans his usual gloat. He jumped off Bulba and headed straight for his daughter. Gosalyn was wiping the blood away from her beak.

 

“Are you okay? How badly are you hurt?” he asked.

 

Bulba smirked. He might have a kill switch, but there was an override. It’d take him a few minutes to force his processors to kick in again, but he was confident they would. All he needed was to lull them into a false sense of security. That shouldn’t be too hard, as the others were acting as though the battle was over.

 

He couldn’t see much beyond his current perception of Darkwing hugging Gosalyn, but he didn’t need to. Processors whirred and churned within him. No, this would be faster than a few minutes. He’d been upgraded in the interim. Just another minute more…

 

“What do we do with him?” Mrs. Beakley said in distaste.

 

The others gathered around him and he was counting the seconds. Thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight…

 

“Throw him in the Money Bin with Steelbeak and Black Heron,” Scrooge said, scowling and prodding at him with his cane. Twenty...nineteen...eighteen…

 

“Make sure he’s down for the count first,” Gosalyn said flatly. “He’s gotten up before.”

 

Scrooge poked at him again and Bulba endured it, for there were only ten seconds left. Ten, nine, eight…

 

“How did you defeat him the last time?” Huey asked.

 

“We didn’t...he retreated and I don’t know why…” Gosalyn admitted. Systems reinitializing...processors at maximum speed and fully engaged...he shoved himself to his feet and grabbed Dewey. Without much effort, he broke the boy’s arm. Dewey screamed and Bulba grinned, grinding the bones in Dewey’s arm together.

 

“Perhaps I will let you suffer first,” he said.

 

“The kill switch didn’t work?” Huey said, shocked and dismayed.

 

More smoke flew in his face and this time, when something heavy landed on him, it was mechanical in nature. Gizmoduck wrenched his hand away from Dewey’s arm and then yanked off Bulba’s helmet, which was something Darkwing would have done if he’d been clever. Without it, he couldn’t use his mind to control the suit’s functions, which meant he was immobilized. Again.

 

Unlike before, he couldn’t think of a way around this, not without tricking Gizmoduck into restoring the suit.

 

“Dating you is kinda dangerous…” Dewey said to Webby and his eyes filled with pained tears. She hugged him and was careful to avoid his broken arm.

 

“Gizmoduck,” Scrooge said and his tone left no room for argument. “Lock him in the cells while I have a nice chat with Steelbeak.”

 

He was trembling in rage and he slammed his cane into Bulba’s face three times until blood dripped from his nose.

 

Somehow, Taurus Bulba rather thought this wasn’t what Steelbeak had had in mind. To be fair, this wasn’t what Bulba had had in mind either.

 

* * *

 

Dewey had needed his arm set, although it was thankfully a clean break. Webby was quiet as he was seen to; she hadn’t forgotten his words. Maybe it was too dangerous for them to date. Maybe she was putting him in danger by being near her. Her grandmother had been insistent that she not move out. But what choice did she have?

 

“Webby, you know I’m not upset at you, right?” Dewey asked once his arm was in its cast. “This isn’t your fault.”

 

“Yeah, it is,” she said, morose. If it was any consolation to her, Lena looked despondent too. Her magic had failed at a crucial moment and the older teenager had folded in on herself. Louie sat beside her and spoke to her quietly, too quietly for Webby to catch the words.

 

“No, it isn’t,” Dewey said. “And I’m not blaming you. This could’ve happened to anyone with supervillain parents that hold grudges.”

 

Webby gave him a skeptical look and he shrugged.

 

“What Dewey means is that you can’t blame yourself,” Huey said. “And you can’t run away from it. We’re going to be here, no matter what. You’re part of the family now.”

 

She nodded, gnawing her lower beak. Her gaze fell to the floor and Dewey tilted her chin up.

 

“Hey,” he said softly. “I love you.”

 

Her heart wrenched and she leaned forward, kissing him fiercely. With his good arm, he hugged her to him. When Taurus Bulba had had him under his foot, she was certain he’d stomp on him and crush his ribcage. Dewey ran his fingers through her hair and pulled out the bow, which was fine with her. She was leaning over, trying to mold herself to him in the hospital bed.

 

“Guys, you know, you do have an audience,” Huey said. “Guys. C’mon, guys.”

 

“Sorry,” Webby said sheepishly, pulling away from Dewey reluctantly.

 

With Steelbeak thwarted and all the major players incarcerated, Webby might actually be safe now. She wasn’t entirely sure, as she’d never been sure of much of anything in her life, but…

 

She was an honorary Duck now and that was all that mattered.


End file.
